


Quid Pro Quo

by thisiszircon



Series: The Moment of Awakening [11]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 77,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiszircon/pseuds/thisiszircon
Summary: Shanghai, 1844.  In the aftermath of the First Opium War the city is fractured: poverty and wealth, tradition and ambition, drugs, exploitation, organised crime.  There's a volatile cocktail of local resentment and foreign presumption that seems to be waiting for one detonating spark.The Doctor and Ace were aiming for twenty-first century London, and are surprised to find themselves blown off course. Trusting to his ship's nose for trouble, the Doctor insists on a quick look around.What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Seventh Doctor/Ace McShane
Series: The Moment of Awakening [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/308457
Comments: 46
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With grateful thanks to my invaluable beta-reader and editor, [Nemo the Everbeing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemo_the_Everbeing)

"By three methods we may learn wisdom:  
first, by reflection, which is noblest;  
second, by imitation, which is easiest;  
and third, by experience, which is the bitterest."

Confucius, 551BC-479BC

"Now you're sure," the Doctor asked, eyeing Ace across the console. "All of time and space, and this is where you want to go?"

He sounded unimpressed. Worse, actually. He sounded disappointed.

"What's wrong with it?" she demanded.

"We are in a TARDIS – one of the most advanced ships in the known universe. Look at her! State-of-the-art temporal engineering, the elegant complexity of multi-dimensional mathematics, the-the-the–" He looked around, lost for another item to add to his list, then brightened and said, "The cutting-edge interior design."

A uniform bank of white round things signalled advanced decor, did it? Ace refrained from arguing the point, however. To do so would be to swerve off topic. Instead she fell back on a tried and trusted:

"So?"

The Doctor pouted. "And she has a flashing light on the top."

" _So_?"

" _So_ – the possibilities are very nearly endless. And you're asking me to make a trip in this-this colossus of time-and-space travel that you could have made in a Ford Escort, even if you'd never met me!"

_That_ was his issue? Ace's request wasn't cosmic enough? Sometimes she couldn't work him out. Okay, fine, a nice day out for him consisted of parking up next to a star about to go supernova. He liked to open the TARDIS doors so they could sit on the threshold with their legs swinging below. He barely gave any thought to the remarkable power of the ship's shields protecting them from the vacuum of space and, oh yeah, the great big bloody star that was exploding in front of their noses.

But the Doctor had form for enjoying the simple things too. Like tea and scones in Mrs Bulwell's back garden, or the way a good musician could draw out a single sustained note on a saxophone. So what was his problem today? Had she caught him at the wrong time? Did his preferences swing between epic days and mundane days, and no one had bothered to send Ace the memo?

"If I'd never met you," she said, a bit carefully since it was a hypothetical that didn't bear thinking about, "I'd've needed to wait till I was in my forties to do this particular trip."

He dismissed the point with an impatient shake of his head. "Why the sudden urge for London?"

"Told you, didn't I?" she said. "I've been doing research."

He looked disapproving. "You've been watching internet video clips."

"And reading! Even newspapers and stuff. There's lots of information online, now I know how to look."

The Doctor tut-tutted. "You see, this is why I keep pre-twenty-first century human companions away from the world wide web. You always become obsessed."

"Not obsessed. Don't be snooty." Ace narrowed her eyes and added, "Since when do you ignore the tools at your disposal, anyway? You love a good information source."

The Doctor frowned and turned to fiddle with something irrelevant on the console.

But Ace knew his tics and tells. "Ah. And that's the problem, isn't it? You like information sources that only _you_ can use. The internet's there for everyone. Level playing field – one of your least favourite things."

Irritated, the Doctor stood straight and said, "If you want to call a digital medium riddled with false data and bullying a 'level playing field' then you're more forgiving than I."

Ace rolled her eyes. "Whatever you want to call it, toothpaste's out of the tube." She drew her shoulders back. "I am digitally informed. And I have made my decision."

"London 2012," the Doctor said. Then he gave a big, universe-weary sigh. "It's just so prosaic." A pause, and a sideways look. "Skiff-racing through the Ree Sil asteroid belt? The four-moon festival on Tersimmer? Are you sure I can't tempt you with something more interesting than a sporting arena with plastic food and too much shouting?"

"Oh, for..." Ace turned away, blew some stray hair out of her eyes then turned back. "Look. You asked where I'd like to go. I told you. Fair enough?"

"Yes, but–"

"But nothing. If you want to go somewhere else then sodding well _go_ somewhere else – it's your super-advanced ship."

"Don't be like that," the Doctor grouched.

"Like what? I'm pointing out the obvious. We're currently parked on the moon of...well, some world that doesn't have any vowels in its name so I'm not even going to try to say it, and we're here because you wanted to come and see an egg hatch–"

"An egg that, yesterday, was the _other_ moon of Khrrm," the Doctor said, with deliberate emphasis on every throaty consonant of the nearby planet's name.

"Whatever. Point is, if I fancy popping back to London then I can't do it on my own, and definitely not in a Ford Escort. So there you go. You have _all_ the decision-making power in this partnership. Let's not pretend otherwise."

"Ace."

She hesitated at the change in his tone. "What?"

"Is there something else that's made you..." He tailed off. There was a pause. The Doctor studied her, as if he was assessing something with that alien brain of his. "You, er, seem to be a touch confrontational today."

"Careful," Ace warned, as she studied him right back. "Because if you're even _thinking_ of making this about periods..." Every word of the sentence seethed with menace.

"Of course I'm not." He tut-tutted. "Your last cycle began twelve days ago, anyway."

She covered her embarrassment with a laugh. "Wow. Full marks for creepiness."

"You brought it up!"

"So you do listen on occasion, then?"

He blinked. "What exactly am I supposed to have ignored?"

"London! 2012! You asked; I answered."

"I know!"

Ace sighed out her annoyance. It felt as if the Doctor was trying to stir up an argument on purpose, which was the last thing she needed. Her stress levels had been elevated since she'd woken up that morning. Today was something of an anniversary: six months since Colonis. Half a year ago she'd been dumped on a planet where she was supposed to die, and all those long-repressed abandonment issues had surged to the fore. She had helped to catch a shape-shifting serial killer, averted a planetary civil war, almost been shot by an alien assassin and then scarpered from a group of people who'd become genuine friends, leaving them a likely-looking corpse.

Today also marked six months since she'd last had sex. Not that she was counting. (Well, aside from the fact that she clearly _was_ counting. Which was kind of pathetic, since her most recent lover had been the aforementioned shape-shifting serial killer, and he hadn't even been good in bed.)

"I'm not in the mood to argue about this," she said wearily, rubbing at her forehead.

"I wasn't arguing," the Doctor argued.

As much as Ace adored and admired her time-travelling friend, there were times when she could happily strangle him.

"Fine," she said. "So we're off to London, then."

He grimaced, as though someone had trodden on his foot. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather–?"

"Are you going to force me to point out that you do, in fact, owe me a favour?" she demanded. The Doctor's un-birthday present had been weeks ago, but she hadn't forgotten how he'd managed to screw up. Twice.

"Ah," he said, intrigued. "It's like that, is it?"

Ace's belly flipped over. She had the dawning sense that she'd made a mistake. There was a difference between someone feeling like they owe you a favour and you demanding one. The two things were not the same.

Fuck it, game theory was complicated.

"This partnership of ours – we're finally acknowledging its transactional component, are we?" the Doctor pressed.

Ace felt as if she'd been thrown into a mental tennis match: one for which she was sorely underprepared. The Doctor had returned her sloppy serve. The ball was in her court and about to go sailing past her. She'd travelled with him for a long time, though, and she wasn't an awkward teenager anymore. "You acknowledged it first," she said. "Few weeks back. You're the one who said you do nice things to make up for the stuff you need to say sorry for."

"Hmm," the Doctor said, frowning.

Ace's return ball flew past him to bounce well within the lines. Fifteen-love? Ace shook her head and discarded the tennis metaphor, since she'd exhausted her knowledge of the game.

"Are you denying you owe me a couple of sorrys?" Ace said. Since she'd made this issue explicit, she could only brazen it out.

"Are you sure this is what you want to spend them on?"

Great. They were now playing the 'question with a question' game. The Doctor was good at it. He liked defaulting to questions when he felt wrong-footed. He thought it gave less away. He was probably right.

Ace glared and said, "Are you saying you'll refuse to do anything else that's nice, once my credit runs out?"

The Doctor arched a brow. "Is it possible you're taking the transactional angle too far?"

"Does it unsettle you?"

"Is this attitude not rather clinical, for a friendship?"

"Do you believe hurtful mistakes should never be put right?" she demanded.

The Doctor opened his mouth, then he closed it, then he huffed. "London 2012," he said, as if conceding.

Ace felt the unexpected thrill of victory. She rarely won those question-games.

Then she reviewed the conversation.

"Oh, you're such a manipulative git," she growled, when she worked it out.

"What did I do now?" he asked, sounding wounded.

"You don't care whether or not we go to London. You just tricked me into cashing in my chips when I didn't need to."

He didn't answer. He twitched an eyebrow and bustled around the console.

Ace considered him for a moment. She thought about game theory. She thought about her friend, the great manipulator.

She blinked, as an idea struck her. "Clever," she said, as airily as she could.

The Doctor glanced up, cautious again. "Hmm?" he prompted, pretending only to be half-listening.

"It's a well-designed strategy," she clarified. "Have to give you credit, there."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hurtful mistakes," she said. "I mean, this way, you can rack up as many as you like. It's a clever way of dealing with them."

"I don't follow."

"This! What you just did! You pretend you're doing me a favour, when really you're doing what you'd've done anyway. So you cancel out the debt at no cost to yourself."

"Is that what I did?"

She ignored that remark, since he'd all but admitted it. "So all the times you let me down, you can square them away for free. All it takes is a pretend strop. A spot of manipulation."

He frowned at her. He looked a bit startled.

"Course," Ace went on, "if I'm right, that suggests you don't care about those hurtful mistakes. Not really. Which is...well, actually, the word 'hurtful' springs to mind."

She turned away, leaned back on the console and fiddled with her thumb.

A pause, then she sensed the Doctor come to lean next to her. He breathed deeply.

"I'm going to assume," he said, "that you're becoming far too adept at playing me at my own game."

"Are you," she said flatly.

"Mmm. And I'm going to do that because you're on the verge of worrying me."

She lifted her chin and turned to meet his eyes. She had to swallow, because their faces seemed very close. "Why would it worry you?"

"Frankly, because I don't view our friendship in terms of _quid pro quo_."

She'd been expecting him to answer with another question, rather than what felt suspiciously like emotional honesty. "Oh."

"And I'd hope that you do not, either," he added.

"Not usually," she hedged.

He looked at her a moment longer. He seemed tired, somehow, maybe a bit sad. Perhaps still a little disappointed, though the why of it was quite beyond Ace.

Then he inhaled sharply and turned away. "Right, then. London 2012."

Yes. Drawing a line under that discussion-stroke-weirdness seemed like the right idea.

The Doctor walked back around the console and threw the switches with a flourish, demonstrating – without apparent shame – that he had programmed the coordinates _before_ he'd prompted a bickering session with her about them. The time rotor juddered into action. The Doctor met Ace's semi-glare with a twitch of both eyebrows and a glint in his eyes.

She went over to the seating area in the corner of the console room. (The two wicker conservatory chairs were long gone, thankfully, since they'd been impossible to slouch in. She still hadn't figured out how the Doctor had manoeuvred a three-person sofa and a winged armchair into this space, along with a corner table and a standard lamp sporting a long silky fringe. Since she was buggered if she'd give him the satisfaction of asking how he'd got it done, it would likely remain a mystery.) She lifted her rucksack and checked her supplies.

First things first: weapons. No knife, obviously; the recent trip to the theatre in post-millennium London had reminded her that security checks were ubiquitous in that era. Her knife and its sheath had therefore been left in her quarters. Fortunately, the rest of her personal armoury was unlikely to raise flags. She'd already placed some marbles of Nitro in various pockets of her cargo trousers. Her stun-gun was twenty-seventh century technology, its casing made of intelligent ceramic and its circuitry of crystal; it wouldn't set off any alarms in 2012 and, when not in use, it folded up into a shape that looked like a case for spectacles. This was why it was snugly sitting in her front left pocket below the curve of her hipbone.

Rummaging through her rucksack, she checked the more mundane items she might end up needing; a quick visit could so easily turn into a fortnight. Change of clothes; bar of soap; menstrual products; few snacks and a bottle of water. Her slim address book was in there, containing its ever-increasing list of contacts through the ages, just in case she found herself stranded: she checked for Earth 2012 and saw that there were at least three people who'd recognise her and give her help if she needed it, even if all three would be alarmed at an Ace McShane showing up who wasn't at least ten years older (or younger) than she currently was.

Her notebook was in there, of course. She couldn't leave that lying around in her quarters, because every time she left the TARDIS she did so knowing there was a small possibility she might not come back. (As in _couldn't_ come back. Due to an absence of heartbeat. Unlikely, on this occasion, since they were attending a sporting event rather than the downfall of a civilisation, but she'd learned to expect the unexpected.) Whatever happened, she wasn't going to leave her notebook, with its Colonis-journal and game theory plots and erotic dream summaries, lying around for the Doctor to discover during a sudden and tragic absence-of-Ace. Or, worse, for some new companion to find, decades into the Doctor's future, if they decided they liked the quarters with the old badge-covered jacket hung in the corner. Both those things would be mortifying, and Ace wasn't sure being dead would mitigate her humiliation.

"We'll be coming back here between events, you know," the Doctor pointed out. "And London in 2012 has all sorts of mod-cons. I've heard tell of horseless carriages."

When Ace glanced back at him, he was frowning at her rucksack. He'd been watching her pack. (Which, frankly, showed how sensible she'd been in secreting her weapons about her person in the privacy of her quarters.)

"I know," she said. "But we don't all have dimensionally transcendental pockets."

The time rotor shuddered to a halt and an array of checklights began to blink on the console.

"Right then. Shall we?" The Doctor cast a barely curious eye over the indicators that informed him oxygen, pressure and gravity were all safe outside the TARDIS. The coordinates he'd programmed remained clear on the read-out as Ace hoisted her rucksack and moved to catch up.

At the lever to the main doors, the Doctor halted.

"What?" she asked.

He back-tracked. Literally. He walked backwards in his own footsteps to look again at the coordinate panel. The Doctor frowned, moved around the console and activated the scanner, which dropped down on a hinged arm from its roundel. The screen came on and offered a picture of the immediate area outside. Ace went over to look at it. This was a precaution the Doctor rarely bothered to take.

The screen was dark, which made Ace wonder if they'd got the temporal coordinates wrong and managed to land at the end of the day. Then her eyes adjusted to the dim picture and she stepped closer in order to double-check what she was seeing.

East Asian people. Probably Chinese, though Ace wasn't overly confident in her ability to tell Thai or Vietnamese people apart from their nearest Chinese neighbours. Still, this shouldn't have been an issue because London in the twenty-first century was a richly diverse place where you might encounter any and every ethnicity.

Except there was nothing _but_ Asian people on the scanner. And they were not dressed for a day out at a celebration of sport and entertainment. And behind them was no sign of the regenerated east end of London, with wide pedestrian walkways and new venues and so forth. Instead Ace saw a barge-cluttered canal and ramshackle buildings and an ominous sense of poverty and danger.

She managed to hide the resigned sigh. "Right. So. Where are we? _When_ are we?"

The Doctor bustled around his read-outs. "Shanghai," he said after a few moments. "1844. Early spring, I think. April, maybe? Though they use the lunar calendar, if memory serves." He peered a moment longer. "It's about half past seven in the evening. If that helps."

"Oh, yeah, very helpful. Did you set the coordinates wrong?"

He sent her a wounded glare. "Of course I didn't."

"Okay, rephrase. Did you set the wrong coordinates? On purpose, I mean?"

Stiffly, he said, "No, I didn't do that either."

"So...?"

A beat. They looked at each other.

"There's probably a reason we're here," he said, a touch wheedling.

"Danger, invasion, corruption?"

"Perhaps."

"Evil-since-the-dawn-of-time?"

He rolled his eyes. "One throwaway phrase and you never let me forget it!"

"Just saying. It'll be something, right?"

"The old girl does have a knack for taking us where we need to be."

This time Ace didn't bother to hide the sigh. "So we should check."

"Quick look round?"

"Quick look round," she agreed. Because as much as she was disappointed not to be on her way to a major sporting spectacular, she trusted in the TARDIS as much as the Doctor did. "I'd better go and get changed."

"No need. We won't go far," the Doctor said. "We'll ask a few questions. Get a sense of what's going on. We'll keep the TARDIS in sight the whole time." He frowned to himself. "Mid-nineteenth century. You know, I'm sure that's important..."

"Want me to check the internet?" Ace suggested.

"Very funny. Let's go."

Ace pulled the door lever and they stepped out into a cool, humid Shanghai evening.

~~~

_Shanghai, China_  
_10th April 1844_  
_7:32 pm_

As it turned out, they didn't need to walk far from the TARDIS to figure out that there were awful things happening.

The air was rank, for a start. The canal seemed to function as an open sewer as much as a watery thoroughfare. Fires were dotted all around the landscape, even on top of the barges crammed in to certain parts of the waterway, and foul-smelling smoke rose from most. The hovels and huts and a few more substantial buildings lining the paths along the canal were similarly malodorous.

They had been walking for no more than two or three minutes, taking it all in, when the Doctor paused on the canal-side between moored barges. The pathway was stone-paved and slippery underfoot. He turned around, surveying the area. His expression was grim, but he didn't have that glint in his eye that meant he'd spotted a clue.

"Tell me what you see," he murmured.

"Really?" Ace shook her head. "You're testing me? Still?"

"No," he snapped. "I'm asking you to tell me what you see. A second opinion. _If_ it isn't too much trouble."

She huffed at him, but she ordered her thoughts and did as he asked. "Fine. In no particular order: poverty, lack of sanitation, drug use, prostitution, malnourishment–"

"Be specific."

She looked at the nearest barge. Heaps of something lumpy were stacked on the vessel, all covered with threadbare canvas. The barge was guarded by a pair of armed men who looked like they were itching for someone to have a go at nicking the stuff. Whatever the cargo was, it was heavy; the barge floated low in the water compared to others nearby.

Ace did a three-sixty turn, taking everything else in. The only thing remotely reassuring about this drab and cluttered landscape was the sliver of TARDIS blue still visible about fifty metres behind them.

"Right, then," she said. "The couple rendering fat in front of the lean-to just behind us are both suffering from some kind of lung disease, probably tuberculosis. There are several young women a short distance to our right who are touting for business; at least one of them is horrifically underage. Three men are approaching them, one after the other, but they seem to have insufficient funds. The water in the canal is so toxic it's killing rats. Whatever's on that barge, it's valuable and very heavy. Over there, on the opposite side of the canal, is an opium den. Few of those about, actually. Most users seem to be eating the stuff rather than smoking it, though."

"Opium. Of course," the Doctor murmured.

His comment made something click into place. "Right! The Opium Wars," Ace said. She tried to dredge up some long-forgotten facts. "Can't remember the exact dates, but I think the first one was about now." When she sensed him turn to look at her in surprise she said, "What? I don't rely on you for all my info, you know. And I didn't get kicked out of school till fifth form."

"Ten years ago this place was still a small walled town surrounded by a cluster of fishing villages. We've arrived at a volatile time," the Doctor mused.

"Yeah. And I'm guessing most of the locals won't be glad to see my white European face," she agreed, then shot the Doctor a glance. "Or yours, come to that. We should get you a T-shirt. 'Don't blame me – I'm not even from this planet.'"

"It could be worse," the Doctor said. "The war is over at this point, if memory serves. So! We've missed the fighting. And your lot won."

"Piece of piss, then," Ace said archly. "Surprised they haven't launched a parade for us."

The Doctor tut-tutted, but he'd long since given up admonishing her for her language.

Ace tried to remember the context of the Opium Wars. She winced at the facts she could recall. "The British Empire pulled some shitty stunts in its time, but this one was up there."

"Hmm."

"I mean, the whole thing got glossed over at school. Ten minutes, if that. Manisha's mum was good at that stuff, though. Told me all about the East India Company. How they turned the subcontinent into a drug farm, flooded China with opium, then told the Chinese authorities – 'Hey, you know you said you don't want anything from us in trade, even though we buy all your tea and shit? Turns out you need opium. Shitloads of addicts round here! Look at them all – where did they come from? No problem. We can supply. Now give us more stuff.'"

"While I can't find fault with your summary, there was rather more to it than that. Qing China hardly covered itself in glory, before or after."

"Maybe. But it was their country to be arseholes in. Big difference."

To their left, the two armed guards on the heavily laden barge shouted something to each other. One of them nodded and jumped down to the canal path. Ace tensed, watching, until she was sure neither man was interested in them. She frowned as she got a closer look at the weapon the man carried in a holster at his side.

"Still, a single despicable episode in history does not justify a TARDIS detour," the Doctor was musing.

"No," Ace said. More voices sounded nearby: raised and threatening. She looked away from the barge, scowling over at the three men looking to buy sex from the ragged girls further along the canal. The men's unsuccessful attempts to engage the girls' services were making them aggressive; she recognised escalation when she saw it. "Ah well. Since we're here..." Because it didn't look like any of these girls had a nearby pimp, conveniently built like a brick shithouse, ready to come running when the tricks got unpleasant.

"Ace," the Doctor warned, but he either didn't want to dissuade her or knew he could not.

She shuffled her rucksack off her shoulders in case she needed to move fast. "Yeah, I know. Just give me a minute. Oh, by the way? Answer to your original question – one of the blokes on that barge is packing a revolver." The guard was now fiddling with the rope that tied the barge to its mooring. "That one there. Looking to cast off."

"So?"

"So it isn't cap and ball, which is the only kind of revolver that might be in ticket, time-wise."

"What is it, then?"

"Cartridge-loading. Don't recognise the gun, but it's similar enough to a Colt to make me nervous."

"Guns don't usually make you nervous," the Doctor said, with his customary hint of disapproval.

The guard finished with the rope, chucked it back on the barge loosely coiled, and hopped up again. He and his mate were joined by two unarmed boatmen who'd been hidden behind the heaped cargo up till now. The boatmen looked to be readying poles to push the barge off into the waterway.

"Guns that shouldn't be invented for another thirty years do," she said, her attention back on the three men bothering the hookers.

Beside her, the Doctor flustered as he processed the implications of her comment. Ace had more immediate concerns, however. She dumped her rucksack at his feet and strode off down the pathway.

~~~

The young woman had hollow, shadowed eyes and a severe case of coldsores at the corner of her mouth. Her hair was lank, her body bony and brittle, and the scent of cooking opium was coming from her shack.

With a sharp, violent crack, one of the young men who'd been harassing her back-handed her across the mouth.

"Oy!" Ace yelled. "Pick on someone your own size, fuckwit."

The three turned to look at her, surprised. Sensibly, the young woman used their diverted attention to duck into her shack and slam shut a far from adequate door. The noise made one of the men turn back, and his whiny, "Aw!" at the newly absent vagina-for-sale was pathetically adolescent.

One of the men stepped up closer. Ace held her ground as he looked her up and down. She couldn't really draw her stun-gun right away, not with the Doctor watching – everything else besides, he'd just grab it off her afterwards – but she had a bad feeling about this.

"You must be lost," the man said.

"I know exactly where I am." Barely more than fifty metres away from the blue box she called home, was where she was. That was enough.

The man shot her a look of fury. "How _dare_ you speak in the language of your betters, British filth!"

Which was a bit of a weird thing to say. One of his mates nudged him and murmured, "It isn't illegal anymore, elder brother, remember?"

"Why shouldn't I speak your language?" Ace asked, though she had the nearby TARDIS to thank for the real-time translation. "And what makes you think I'm British?"

The man sneered a laugh and looked down at her T-shirt which, unfortunately, bore a stylised Union Flag. It had seemed eminently suitable for London 2012. 19th century Shanghai: not so very much.

"Okay, give you that one," she conceded.

He was staring, though. "What is this clothing you wear?" he demanded. He reached out to touch the material.

Ace slapped his hand. "Oh, I guarantee you can't afford _me_ , mate," she said dangerously. "Walk the fuck away."

The challenge only spurred him on. He came closer. His two friends crowded in, sensing their advantage in numbers.

"Some things," the man said thoughtfully, "are not worth paying for."

"Oh, I'd make you pay," Ace said with a sneer, though at this point she was working hard not to look over her shoulder and invite a little help from her significant other. "Think about it. A woman like me, healthy, well-fed, educated enough to speak your language like a local? Do you think you'd get away with anything disrespectful?"

The man shook his head dismissively, though one of his friends looked concerned and murmured something she didn't catch.

The sound of a gunshot broke into this tense moment, and frankly didn't make it any more relaxed. Ace knew a familiar sinking feeling as she spun around to see what trouble the Doctor had got himself into this time. He was on the barge; clearly he'd decided to investigate before the vessel moved off down the canal. The shot had been fired into the air. Locals along the canal-side began to disappear into shacks and lean-to's like rabbits that had spotted a circling buzzard.

Behind her, one of the three young men said, "We should go."

The door of a nearby building – one of the few that looked like it could offer shelter from a spot of rain – flew open, and a troop of men emerged. All of them were armed, most with those anachronistic revolvers. They were also all focused, immediately, on the tousled man in the colourful waistcoat who had boarded the nearby barge and challenged their colleagues.

Ace took a step towards the barge. Her arm was grabbed and she was yanked back. She turned to face her assailant.

"Take your hand off me," she said.

The man seemed to be building up a head of steam. "I put my hands where I want," he told her. One hand was immediately pressed against the swell of her left breast, and he squeezed as painfully as he could. She tried to move back, but found one of his friends had moved around to cut off her escape. The man moved his hand down and tried to pull the hem of her T-shirt upwards. Her arms were grabbed from behind, just below the shoulders. The other member of the group was already sniggering with excitement, his eyes on her chest, his hands at his own groin.

Fuck this for a game of soldiers.

The man she'd been trading threats with reached between her legs for a grope. She waited until his attention was taken up with the intricacies of her cargo trousers, then she brought a knee up very hard and very fast, right where it would do the most damage. The man gasped, gave a breathless squeak and crumpled into a shambling folded-over thing as he sought to take on enough oxygen to yowl in pain.

The sniggering man looked with shock at his friend. She used his distraction to sort out her captor, attempting to introduce his nose quickly and firmly to the back of her head. Alas, he was too tall for this trick, but she smashed him on the chin, loosened his amateurish hold on her as he complained, and twisted free.

Ace didn't like the odds of fighting three would-be rapists. She also needed to get back to the Doctor. Therefore, without waiting to see how her assailants might react to her unexpected aggression, she broke into a run back along the path towards the barge.

The barge was drifting down the waterway now, poled by the boatmen, one armed guard still visible aboard but no sign of the Doctor. In the distance, however, were several guards moving in a cluster along the path. They were almost level with the TARDIS. Ace shouted at them. There was a slight scuffle and, in their midst, she saw the Doctor as he tried to turn and respond. Almost as soon as she'd seen him, he was jostled into the crowd of his captors again and hidden from view. She slowed to a jog as she drew closer. One guard broke ranks, turned to face her and levelled his far-too-advanced revolver right at her head. Remembering another armed man on another planet exactly six months ago, Ace decided to keep on running, since this was obviously what the guard was trying to prevent. The man's eyes widened in shock, and he pulled the trigger.

Gunshot. Missed her by some margin, fortunately. She hoped it hadn't hit anyone else.

The guard cocked the revolver and the cylinder clicked. The direct route to the TARDIS required her to remain in the line of fire. Ace decided not to risk her luck a second time and ducked left, leaving the canal pathway and disappearing into the warren of passages and alleyways between the buildings in this dingy part of town. She ran, turned, ran some more, turned again, hoping to come back out on to the canal-side in a position where she might be able to follow the heavy-handed group surrounding the Doctor and find out where they intended to take him.

It took longer than she anticipated, because two of the pathways between broken-down buildings led to dead ends. She back-tracked, moving more quietly now, feeling her vulnerability, and emerged on a wider lane alongside the waterway. She stopped and looked around, trying to identify landmarks. She'd gone further than the distance they'd walked from the TARDIS, which meant that the ship would be over to her right.

She couldn't see the Doctor and his entourage, damn it. She was about to head for the ship, where she could at least arm herself more comprehensively, maybe find some clothes that didn't make her stand out like a sore thumb, when–

"She's there! Get her!"

Between her and the place where the TARDIS had to be waiting, three young men were pointing at her and shouting. Two broke into a sprint. One of them ambled along behind, hunched over himself as if nursing a recent injury.

"Fucking great," she muttered.

She turned around and began to run.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the idea of the TARDIS providing front row seats to a stellar explosion, I'd suggest you read Nemo the Everbeing's quite brilliant story [...Who Burned Like Starfire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/48282). (If you already have, maybe treat yourself and go and read it again. It's still brilliant.)


	2. Chapter 2

_Shanghai, China_   
_10th April 1844_   
_8:03 pm_

The pungent smell of the canal burned in Ace's nostrils. The air seemed corrosive, but she forced herself to ignore the discomfort. She needed to stay focused and keep moving. She was pretty sure she was gaining ground on the men who pursued her; she was younger than them, fitter than them. Though her heart was pounding and her breath was beginning to rasp, she wasn't flagging yet.

_'Keep going,'_ she demanded of herself. _'Just keep running. You know what they'll do if they catch up.'_

These narrow streets and alleys were terrifying, not because they were dark and dank and dangerous – though of course they were – but because she did not know them. At any turn she might be faced with a dead end, and a dead end would mean game-over. The final showdown. Three against one. Ace was under no illusion about the peril she was in. The distant shouts and thudding footfalls of her pursuers weren't so very far behind. One attacker she could have dealt with, maybe even two. Ace was not without skills and resources.

But three? All in a cramped, dark space with no ability to manoeuvre? Hard to see how a dead end wouldn't signal exactly the same thing for Ace herself.

So she kept running. She couldn't do anything else, other than hope for the best. Maybe conjure positive thoughts of how the Doctor might have escaped his own group of assailants by now, made it back to the TARDIS, pinpointed her location thanks to the earring she wore which linked her to the craft. Maybe around the next corner she wouldn't see an ominous dead end; maybe she'd see a miraculous blue box...

A lovely thought, but a hard one to cling to. That group of men who'd dragged the Doctor off had been nothing if not insistent. There'd been lots of them, and they'd been armed with weapons beyond current technology. She hadn't even been able to make a note of the direction they were taking him. (She was deliberately not thinking about how annoyed with him she was. He couldn't have waited before marching on to a barge and challenging the armed guard? Damn it, next time she'd keep her firearms expertise to herself.)

Ace ducked under some linens that were strung across the alleyway, pale and ghostly in the dimness, and saw that up ahead she had a choice: left or right. The evening darkness was oppressive here thanks to the narrowness of the alley and the overhang of the pitched roofs. Now she'd left the busy canal behind, the landscape was quieter. Here, people had shut themselves away from the dark and left no helpful external lights to aid the flight of a twentieth-century woman from Perivale who had lost track of her best friend after whacking a would-be molester in the crown jewels.

Ah well: left or right. Fifty-fifty. Eeny-meeny-miney-moe.

She picked left, because her sense of direction told her that the other way would take her back around to the canal. She suspected that the locals trying to chase her down were more likely to find help there than she was herself.

The left hand alley was short. For a moment Ace panicked, thinking she had finally run into the dead end she dreaded. Then her eyes adjusted and she realised that it was just a tight bend. She followed the alley round and blinked at the sight before her. Without slowing her sprint, she considered the wide illuminated street maybe fifty metres ahead that marked an end to this warren of alleyways and squalor.

Would her pursuers follow her out there? Were they really so pissed off about a gonad-smash that, let's face it, had been well deserved? Back around the corner she could still hear shouting and swearing. (It was so helpful of the TARDIS to translate all the epithets that these idiots were using. Always nice to have some language context when your virtue and your life were being violently threatened.)

She stopped running just before the end of the alley, unwilling to draw any more attention than she had to. She measured her steps, tried to walk sedately, tried not to breathe too hard. After a moment of hesitation she turned left and joined the few pedestrians at the side of the street. She walked at their pace. Her eyes tried to take everything in, looking for new threats, scanning the locale for a place to hide herself away.

Ace was very aware that her clothes set her apart. Damn it, she should have changed as soon as she'd realised they were staying! More importantly, she should have kept her rucksack with her. She could only assume it was still sitting there on the canal-side, abandoned after the Doctor had decided to go and have a chat with the nice men with the guns.

Some of the other pedestrians were shooting her curious looks. Some of them were looking openly hostile. Ace tried to remember more of what she'd learned of the Opium Wars. She was pretty sure that various port towns and cities on China's coast had been occupied by British forces. The British had won because their Navy was bigger and stronger and more advanced. (And possibly – Ace couldn't help but theorise – because large numbers of Chinese people who might otherwise have been protecting their territory were lying in opium dens, all blissed out as they slowly killed themselves.)

And here she was now, with her oh-so-white face and a sodding British flag printed on her T-shirt. When it came to finding some local help, she'd definitely been in stronger positions.

Perhaps it would be best to focus on the immediate problem. She needed to lose the blokes who'd spent the last ten minutes doggedly chasing her through alleyways – one of them with a tendency to run with a limp while cradling his man-parts – because if they caught her then they'd definitely not limit their displeasure to a wagged finger and a warning to be more polite in future. If they caught her, they would probably kill her. Or _eventually_ kill her, she thought, with a swiftly repressed surge of panic.

Shanghai struck her as the kind of place where dead bodies turned up regularly, floating in the canals and creeks that criss-crossed the landscape. The kind of place where no one really blinked at such things. Ace told herself she wasn't going to be a victim. If she couldn't lose her pursuers, she'd have to fight. She had her stun-gun and she had a few marbles of Nine-A. She'd prefer not to blow up whichever suburb of Shanghai this turned out to be, but if it came to it then that's what would happen.

She'd been walking for less than a minute, her shoulder blades prickling with the urge to look back and see if she was still being followed, when she spotted a narrow alleyway on the other side of the street.

There. She could hide down there.

This late in the evening there wasn't a lot of traffic along the main road. Things were quiet: too quiet, alas, for her to feel protected by the presence of an anonymous crowd. Ace had the impression this was a commercial district, not a residential one. She darted across the road, wishing her clothing was less striking, wishing the Doctor would teach her how he managed to blend in with any location and culture no matter what he happened to be wearing.

The alleyway was so narrow you could touch both walls at the same time. The buildings here were taller and looked a whole lot more permanent than the crumbling, ramshackle houses and dens and inns and hovels nearer the canals. She jogged as far as she could down this path, pleased to see that once again her luck held: no dead end. A voice – perhaps female, perhaps just young – hailed her, but she kept going. She didn't pause to look over her shoulder; it would only draw attention.

The claustrophobic alleyway ended at a T-junction with another street. She emerged into a sort of back lane behind the row of buildings that faced on to the main road she'd just crossed. To her right, the lane was blocked by the rear edge of a large empty cart that had been de-horsed (or whatever the terminology was) and left to sit there. She could climb over it, but it would slow her down and she wasn't altogether certain that she'd shaken off the chasing pack. So she swerved left and picked her way along the lane, glancing at the rear windows of buildings as she went. They were all dark and apparently unoccupied.

Footsteps. Loud, fast footsteps and a very familiar voice shouting insults. She hadn't lost her pursuers; they were coming down the alleyway. They must have seen where she went, or someone else had pointed them after her.

Damn it.

Ace sighed, looked around and saw only one option: hide. The rear of the building to her left had a small yard, fenced off but with a wide open gate allowing access. Ace moved to conceal herself. She identified the shadowiest corner, crouched down and placed her back to the wall. She did her best to get her breathing under control. This seemed a good time to ready her stun-gun, so she reached into her pocket and palmed the weapon. She pressed her thumb to a specific point on the curved shape and then smiled grimly as the gun opened out in her grip. Its presence immediately made her feel better.

She strained to listen. The voices stopped shouting insults long enough to discuss which way to go. From the hollow sound of boots on wood, one bloke had been sent over the parked cart. The other two headed her way. They were persistent. Ace breathed steadily now, though her heart rate was still elevated. She was on her own, a stranger in a strange town, and she was being hunted, but she was damned if she was going down easy.

The first of her pursuers jogged down the back lane. He glanced through the gate of the yard but didn't see her and kept moving, perhaps assuming she'd already moved further off. Ace let him go. If they all did that, she could double back and gain some proper distance on them.

The second man wasn't so incautious. He was moving slower, frowning harder. Occasionally he patted at his groin, as if to make sure it was still there.

Hello again, Mr Gropey.

He paused at the yard's gate and scanned the locale. Ace stopped breathing, trying to become one with the shadows. She thought she'd got away with it because his eyes darted along the wall where she crouched without a reaction, but then – fuck you very much, universe – a window in the wall above Ace spilled light as someone moved a lantern to the sill, perhaps disturbed by the noises. Ace flinched. The inadvertent motion drew her would-be assailant's eyes once more.

He saw her. He hesitated, perhaps as surprised as she. Then he smiled quite the nastiest smile that Ace had seen in a long time and drew breath to shout for his friends.

Ace raised her stun-gun and shot him square in the chest. The bloke made it easy for her, standing still and presenting such a good target. The energy discharge was almost silent. Mr Gropey collapsed to the ground.

She waited. There was no shout of alarm, neither from the back lane nor the window above her head. She crept over to the gateway and peered around it. To her left, one of Mr Gropey's mates was almost out of sight as he continued down the lane; the other guy had mounted the flatbed of the cart to Ace's right and was standing with his back to her, scanning the lane beyond. He was too far away for an accurate shot. She might make it back to the main road without drawing his attention if she moved quietly and got very lucky. Still, the unconscious man looked conspicuous, lying there half in and half out of the gateway. As soon as the bloke on the cart glanced back, he'd spot his mate.

Ace bit at her lip, then made her decision and grabbed the unconscious body by the leg. She heaved to get the bloke out of sight.

She almost made it. Of course, this tosser's arm had to brush the open metal gate, and his sleeve had to snag on it. Ace pulled harder, heard metal whine on its hinges, realised she was moving a gate that tended not to be moved very often. She stopped pulling.

A voice behind her yelled, "There's the fucking whore!"

Charming.

Ace stood up to see the bloke that had run past her; he'd given up searching the lane and was jogging back. She ducked out of the gateway and raised her stun-gun to take him down. She would have managed to do so as well, were it not for the fact that a weight slammed in to her from behind; the bloke on the cart had come to join in. She found herself taking a face-first dive to the uneven cobbles. Turning her head, she raised her arm to protect herself and landed with a grunt. She ignored the pain of impact, more concerned with the way her weapon had flown from her grasp and skidded away.

The man who had shoved her fell to his knees beside her, looking to pin down her prone body, maybe smack her head into the cobbles. Ace had sufficient wits about her to roll to her back. She lifted her legs to kick out at her attacker, but the fall had winded her and she was reeling from the pain. The man evaded her attempt at a kick and tossed a leg over her middle to straddle her. He sneered down at her face and raised a fist, ready to slam it into her face.

Adrenaline surged. The pain and the breathlessness were set aside; fight-or-flight kicked in. Ace lifted her hips hard, forcing her attacker to tip forward. To steady his topple he had to plant his hands on the ground beyond her head. Before he could right himself and ready that punch again, Ace captured his right arm by hooking her left arm around it. She trapped his right ankle with her left leg the same way, lifted her hips again and this time managed to gain some leverage: enough to tip the bloke over to the side using his trapped arm and leg as a pivot.

It wouldn't have worked if the bloke had been much bigger and heavier. Fortunately for Ace, East Asian physiology tended towards slim and wiry. As she rolled to the position of power in this awkward and painful grappling session she did her best to knock the bloke out with a swift elbow to the jaw. Her strike connected well, and the bloke gave a satisfying grunt in response, but he didn't lose consciousness. Self-preservation prevented her from going in for seconds. While he was thinking about the blow he'd just taken, Ace rolled clear of the man and staggered to her feet. She looked around for her stun-gun. She was good, but she wasn't Bruce Lee. She needed the weapon because there was another bloke who'd be joining in with the attack in a minute–

Or less. The man who'd shouted had hung back, probably expecting his mate to triumph easily in a one-on-one with a slip of a thing like Ace. He did not seem impressed with the way she had held her own. During the brief scuffle he'd been crouched over the body of Mr Gropey, smacking his friend's face to try to wake him up, but on noting Ace on her feet again he got up and stalked towards her with malevolent purpose.

Ace looked around, wondering what to do: run, or fight some more? Behind her, the bloke she'd elbowed was muttering and growling and hauling himself to his feet. She spotted her stun-gun and tried to move around towards it. The shouter followed her line of sight and moved to intercept.

"What is this, whore?" he asked, nudging the gun with the toe of a scuffed-up cloth boot.

"None of your business, wimp," she said back. Sometimes bravado was all she had.

His eyes narrowed. "Wimp?" He laughed unkindly. "What does that mean, stupid whore?"

"Three blokes ganging up together to assault one small woman? Not exactly impressive. Wimp."

The man sneered. "There is no 'assault'." He gestured at her T-shirt. "You offer yourself – you will give. If not, we will take."

"Oh, you poor little wimp," Ace countered, though she was fighting the need to tremble and her heart was hammering. "Never learned about consent? What happened? Mummy and Daddy didn't care enough to teach you? Or are you just a bit thick in the head?"

The man's eyes flashed. "You are far from the British Quarter here! There is no foreign law to protect you." He spat on the cobbles at her feet. "Here you're just a half-dressed whore, and you will learn how to speak to your betters!"

He dashed forward, but Ace was ready. When faced with an angry opponent who was bigger and stronger than you, a good strategy was to get them so riled up that their anger made them reckless. The man's fists were clenched and ready, aiming for her face: right, left, right, left. She danced back at every attempted punch, waiting, breathing, ignoring the pains in her torso and on the side of her arm, hoping an uneven cobble didn't catch her out and put her flat on her arse. She got a sense of the rhythm. When the man's left arm extended in another punch, she dodged, then she swivelled to her right and cut round to his left hand side. In the brief advantage she had gained for herself as her opponent tried to adjust to her new position, she aimed a steel-toed kick as hard as she could at his nearest knee.

He howled with pain, stumbled back, lost balance and fell over: thank you, Doctor Martens. Ace looked around, trying to get an angle on her stun-gun. It didn't take long. The other guy, the one she'd elbowed, was on his feet and he was holding out her weapon in the palm of his hand, eyes glittering, blood covering the side of his mouth where – presumably – her elbow had introduced the soft tissue of his lips to the sharper surface of his teeth.

"You want this, whore?" bloody-mouth growled.

Dear god, what the hell _was_ it with these idiots and the word 'whore'?

Ace looked levelly at him. "Actually, yeah, I do," she said. Fortunately, the weapon was designed to close itself into its pocket-able shape if it didn't register a hand on its grip for more than thirty seconds, so the bloke had no idea what he was holding. "Toss it this way, there's a good little wimp."

Bloody-mouth's eyes grew wide, as if he couldn't quite credit that Ace was able to talk to him like that. Alas, he didn't toss her the gun. Ace looked around, trying to keep an eye on both bloody-mouth and bruised-knee. She considered her options. She couldn't get at her gun without engaging with at least one of these lowlives. She couldn't run without leaving a potentially dangerous anachronism in the possession of a local thug. That left her with two rather stark choices: to fight with her fists and her boots, or with her stash of Nitro Nine-A.

She was already tiring, and the buzz of adrenaline that had carried her along so far was threatening to wear off, which meant the bruises and scrapes she'd sustained would soon be slowing her down. Fists and boots weren't going to cut it. Looked as though she was going to have to go for the dramatic fake-out.

So she drew back her shoulders, found a position where she could keep both of her attackers in her line of sight, and grabbed the impact-detonating micro-charge of Nine-A that she knew was in her right leg pocket. Without looking at the marble, she twisted it in her hand until she found the activation bump and pressed it. The tiny scanner recognised her fingerprint. The bump flattened itself against the sphere, telling her it was ready to go.

"Okay then, wimps," Ace said. "You paying attention?"

The two men, hardly slow to anger at the best of times, glanced at each other then moved apart, circling her. They were preparing a mutual assault which Ace would almost certainly not survive.

But she kept going, even as she moved back to keep both of them in view. "Number one – I am not a prostitute." _Don't think about Glitz._ "Number two – if I were you? I'd turn around and leave before you make me so angry...I do _this_ to you!"

She slung the marble as high and as hard as she could in the direction of the parked cart. She followed up the release with a contrived hand-wave as if casting a spell and yelled:

"Boom!"

There was the briefest of moments when the two men looked as if they were getting ready to roll their eyes at her theatrics. Before, of course:

_Boom_.

The pair of them jumped, spun around, looked at the way the cart was now in multiple pieces including many tiny splintery ones that were raining down upon the cobbles. The sound of the explosion echoed against the stone walls.

Ace smiled harshly and nodded. "Run, fuckwits," she shouted. "Run fast and far. Unless you want me to blast _you_ to pieces as well?" She lifted her hands in what she hoped was a threatening and spooky way.

The bloke whose knee she'd kicked decided he wasn't having fun anymore. He said something that tried to sound dismissive but only sounded scared, then he turned and buggered off in the direction of the alleyway, sporting a pronounced limp.

His friend with the bloodied mouth shouted after him, then looked at his unconscious friend Mr Gropey, who remained oblivious to proceedings half tucked in to the nearby yard. Ace noted that, perhaps unsurprisingly, a light had come back on in one of the building's rooms. She begged this man to fuck off. If he left, she could work her way back to the canals and then try to find someone who knew where the Doctor had been taken. And if she couldn't do that then she could at least return to the TARDIS and use that to find her friend.

The stand-off lasted for maybe six seconds, then bloody-mouth walked towards Ace with murder in his eyes. Looked like he hadn't bought the whole 'I can kill you with a hand-wave' trick.

Shit.

She stepped back, fumbling for another marble of explosive, even though the damn things were hardly any use to her in close quarters. She was back to fists and boots. She was also pretty certain, at this point, that she had bruised or fractured a rib with that first hard fall she'd taken, because the pain in her chest became a bolt of agony every time she tried to inhale deeply.

"You're dead, whore," said bloody-mouth.

Ace shook her head. "Not yet, wimp."

Even this small defiance seemed to enrage him. He held up her stun-gun and then threw it hard against the nearest wall. Then he stepped up and swung a punch. Ace stumbled back. He moved again. Ace dodged, looking for the option, looking for the way to use his anger against him. Another punch: this guy was no stranger to fist-fights. Ace tried to swivel to the side, but he was ready and kept turning with the motion of his punch until his back was to her and he could kick out behind. The heel of his boot caught her just above her knee, and she grunted in pain and fell backwards to the cobbled ground. Before she could adjust her position and at least use her legs to keep him at some distance, he stepped in close. No attempt was made to pin her down or punch her, now. This man was happy to keep using his boots. He caught her in the side and the pain in her ribs flared hot and fierce. He caught her in the breast as she turned on her side and curled into a more defensive ball. She cried out with the pain of that blow, and curled harder. Another blow, another, another. She had nothing, now: no moves, no resources, no options. The best she could hope for was that he'd get bored before he killed her.

A pause. Ace waited, then risked a peek. It was a mistake. Bloody-mouth grinned down at her, red, rotten teeth, lip curling with sadistic intent.

"Stupid whore," he murmured, almost gently, and drew his leg back. She tried to wriggle further away but her back came up against the low wall lining the side of the lane. She had nowhere left to go as he readied what would likely be the death blow, the one that would slam her head hard against the stone. The helplessness she felt in that instant was so infuriating that it overwhelmed even her fear of dying–

Something moved.

Something was moving, right behind her attacker...

Ace narrowed her eyes and peered past him. Even as she tried to make sense of the shadows, the man's leg was grabbed and pulled back, making him hop comically before he wrenched free and righted himself. A dark blur moved to one side and then the other, and he couldn't keep track any more than Ace could. His twitching knocked him off balance. Something swiped at his leg and upended the man; he fell heavily with a yowl of protest. Half-sitting up, he tried to scramble to his feet but something caught him under his chin and whipped his head back. Still the man didn't go down, but instead rolled back to his shoulders then tried to spring up again. He almost made it, but as his feet planted on the lane and his arching back tried to straighten, something snapped out from the side and caught the man flat on his ear.

Bloody-mouth slumped bonelessly to the cobbles again, this time out cold.

Barely aware in her haze of pain and anger and terror, Ace wondered whether this spirit was now going to turn its attention to her. She tried to uncurl and find some kind of defensive position, but everything hurt so badly and there were dark spots in her vision that had nothing to do with the dimness of this locale.

The dark thing moved closer, but more slowly. As Ace's eyes tried to focus, the blur coalesced into a figure that wore loose trousers and a top with braided fastenings down the middle. The figure was small and slight, and as far as Ace's vision could tell it was entirely human rather than some kind of supernatural avenger, even though Ace would have put money on the latter.

"Can you walk?" it asked her gently.

It was a woman. Ace blinked, peered, and satisfied herself that she was right: her rescuer was a painfully young and rather beautiful woman, who was looking at Ace with compassion and concern moments after taking down a thug with breathtaking efficiency.

"Okay," Ace muttered, "didn't see that coming."

It seemed like a good time to lose consciousness, so she did just that.

~~~

"Lady."

_'Who are you calling a lady?'_ Ace demanded, the words sounding familiar even though they only echoed in her head.

"Lady!"

'Lady', of course, was much nicer than 'whore'. "Um," Ace said. She wondered where she was for a moment before the hard cobbles underneath her boniest bits reminded her. She realised she'd been out cold. Hopefully it had only been for a few seconds.

"Lady, do you understand me?" the miraculous young woman asked her.

(Miraculous?)

That's right. Ace remembered now. She'd lost the Doctor, been assaulted and chased and beaten up, and at the very last minute she'd been saved by this woman who looked like she was barely out of her teens. Another day at the office. Ho hum.

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "I don't speak English."

The TARDIS's translation skills always made such statements sound hilarious to Ace, but she was aware that laughing would, at present, be a terrible idea. More because of the state of her ribs than any potential cultural misunderstanding.

"'S okay," she said. "I understand."

"Good, that's good," the woman said. "Can you walk?"

"Oh. I have no idea," Ace mumbled. Her words were a bit slurred.

"I'm afraid I am not strong enough to carry you," her rescuer said.

Ace laughed, then coughed, then whimpered with the agony of what was very definitely a damaged rib. "You? Are amazing," she said.

"You managed to deal with two of them," the woman said. A pause. "And a cart."

"Yeah," Ace said, struggling to find a position where she could accept some help in getting to her feet. "Bloody carts. Hate them. With their stupid wheels and their...what am I even talking about?"

The woman reached for her hands and pulled. Ace staggered upright, feeling big and cumbersome and awkward next to this black-clad spirit of the night. She swayed, but managed not to fall over when she planted her bum against the wall behind her.

"Right then. Um – hi there," she said. "I'm Ace, and this is–" She looked to her side, noted nobody else standing there and stopped talking. In that moment she felt her solitude more painfully than her injuries.

"This is...?" the woman asked politely.

"This is a hell of a night to take on three rapists in an alleyway," she said.

"Yes," the woman said. "But there are no good nights for that. Is the man in the yard going to wake up?"

Ace glanced over at Mr Gropey. "Yup. About an hour or so."

"Good. The two of them can help each other home."

She looked at bloody-mouth, who lay slumped but still breathing where her rescuer had put him down. "S'pose they can. They live to hate women another day."

The woman shrugged. "Such men usually do. My name is Li Renxiang. Can I escort you home, Miss Ace?"

"Just Ace. And my home is a blue box near the canal."

"Which canal?"

"No idea. That way. Ish." She waved in the direction of the main road.

Li Renxiang nodded. "Perhaps it would be better for you to come back to my room and let me check your injuries. I think we should get away from here." She was looking around nervously. "The noise will have made the locals cautious. Runners will have been sent. The militia will be here soon."

Ace was happy enough with this plan, but she felt the need to ask, "Why did you help me? Why _are_ you helping?"

The woman studied her. "If I had been in trouble and you were able to help, would you?"

Ace shrugged. "Course I would."

"Then you already know why." She drew Ace's arm over her shoulders and turned them to walk away from the junction with the alleyway and the splintered cart. "We should go this way."

"Hang on a tick," Ace said. "I need my stunner." At her companion's confused look she added, "I dropped it when they jumped me. One of them picked it up. Did you see where he chucked it?"

Li let Ace go and went to retrieve the stun-gun. "Is it not broken, now?" she asked as she handed it back.

"Might be. But broken or not, it's a dangerous anachronism."

"I don't understand."

"Doesn't matter." Ace coughed again. "Ow. Ribs." She looked at her rescuer. "So what do I call you?" She remembered, distantly, a conversation with Shou Yuing about Chinese name etiquette. All she could really remember was that making Western assumptions about Chinese names could cause offence.

"'Miss Li' is fine," Li said.

Ace nodded. Hopefully the TARDIS could do the hard work when it came to providing a translation that met courtesy-expectations.

"Right then. It's nice to meet you, Miss Li," she said.

Li smiled, took Ace's arm and began to walk them further up the lane.

~~~

Li lived in a small room on the second floor of a building about fifteen minutes' walk from the place where Ace had been attacked. They entered the building through a rear door and went up a back stair. It took Ace several minutes before she began to make sense of the comings and goings within the communal passages of this building.

"No offence," she said, still leaning heavily on her new friend's shoulder and wondering how soon she could find somewhere to slump down and pass out for a while, "but do you live in a brothel?"

"Yes," Li said. "I am a courtesan."

"Oh." Ace wondered what the correct response to that was. "Right you are." She frowned. "Glad you took tonight off, then. I'd be dead if you hadn't happened along."

Li turned her towards the door off a landing and then guided them through it. "I never work later than sundown," she said. "And I was directed to your location. I did not happen along by chance."

Ace stopped short. "Directed? How?"

"I was given a note. A few days ago. It told me to look for a white woman in the lane behind the new customs house. Someone who needed help. It told me to do so on this evening."

Ace tried to process what that meant. "May I see it?"

"Of course. It's in my room."

They walked to the end of a narrow corridor. An open doorway on the left showed several young Chinese men with scantily clad females as company, though the haze of opium smoke had rendered most activity within lethargic. On the other side of the corridor, a closed door provided visual screening to the more energetic congress taking place beyond: an event that was hard to ignore thanks to the grunts and moans.

Ace blushed. She'd never been comfortable with overt displays of sexuality. It was something she put down to her early teenage years, back when her mum had been less than choosy about new boyfriends. Listening to your own mother's indiscreet sex noises, night after night, left you with some serious hang-ups.

Li must have noticed her reaction because she said, "It was not my intention to shame you."

Ace started. "Shame? God, no, no – nothing like that. I suppose in some ways I'm a bit uptight. My issue. Not yours."

Li opened the door at the end of the passage and helped Ace into the room beyond. It was small and dark, even with the paraffin lamp that Li lit as soon as Ace had been helped on to the bed that was, rather inevitably given the context, the main item of furniture within. Ace wanted nothing more than to slump back and perhaps sleep for a few hours. Of course, she couldn't.

"Will you get into trouble, me being here?" she asked Li.

"No. Tomorrow I will introduce you to Madam Deng. She oversees business here – she is a decent woman. This is a good place to work. The courtesans here, we manage our own time and clients, so long as we maintain our rent. We are lucky. You probably saw how things happen in the slums."

Hollow-eyed girls, some no more than children. "Yes," Ace said. Then: "This might be really rude, but do you mind me asking how old you are?"

Li lifted her chin. "I am seventeen years old."

Ace nodded. Could be worse.

"At least," Li added, "I will be after my birthday next month."

But not very much worse, as it turned out.

~~~

The graze on Ace's arm from that first fall to the cobbles had been cleaned and dressed. A few other cuts Ace hadn't even noticed had also been cleaned up. Ice was, unfortunately, hard to come by in nineteenth century Shanghai in April, but Li was business-like in the way she provided a supply of cold compresses for the worst of Ace's bruising. There was little to be done for her ribs. Binding them would only restrict her breathing, and Li informed her that deep, steady breathing was an important part of healing. When Ace asked how she knew so much about first aid, Li said that her father had been a soldier and she'd learned about triage from him.

So. Ace might be one great big walking bruise at the moment, but apart from her ribs she was fairly sure she hadn't broken anything. There was no blood in her urine. She wasn't coughing up blood either. Ace hoped that this meant her injuries were mainly superficial. She supposed she should be grateful that steel-toe-capped Doc Martens weren't readily available in this time and place. She'd probably be dead now if her final attacker had been wearing anything sturdier than makeshift cloth boots.

She lay flat on Li's bed, keeping as still as she could. Li had provided tea of some kind and Ace had been glad of the chance to rehydrate. Now she held a piece of paper in her hands. It was thick, fibrous and expensive-looking, and it contained a few lines of writing. The characters were neatly handwritten in faded black ink. They were of course in Chinese – Mandarin or Cantonese or whatever language was spoken in Shanghai at this time, Ace supposed – but her connection to the TARDIS meant that relaxing her eyes allowed her to read, quite clearly:

_Li Renxiang,_   
_You have a problem, and it is at Wusong._   
_In the back lane behind the new customs house, on the tenth day of the third lunar month, a British woman named Ace will be attacked._   
_This will happen after sundown._   
_Please help her. Ace can assist with your problem._

"Do you recognise this note?" asked Li from the other end of the bed, where she sat cross-legged and looked disturbingly child-like in a clean silk shift with her hair brushed out.

A good question. Ace had been expecting to see the Doctor's familiar script. He had form, after all, when it came to sending notes: forwards and backwards and sideways in time. But the handwriting did not offer up any clues, nor did the absence of a signature. This left her flummoxed.

Ace chewed her lip for a moment. "I suspect it's from a friend of mine," she said, since there was every chance that the Time Lord had had something to do with this. "He's called the Doctor." She glanced over the top of the note at Li. "I'm very grateful that you trusted this note. In case I forgot to say it before – thank you, Miss Li, for saving my life."

Li nodded. "I had to trust it. There was no question."

"Why not?"

"Because I think I wrote it."

Ace blinked. " _You_ wrote it?"

"The hand is mine. But I have no memory of writing these words, nor of how I came upon the knowledge they express."

Ace nodded. At least she now knew whom she needed to get to write the note. Eventually. If the Doctor was happy to play with paradox then she saw no reason why she shouldn't give it a go herself.

"Let's worry about that later," she said. "Right now I'm not at my best."

Li nodded, then she looked down at her hands. Maybe it was chagrin, maybe it was basic Chinese etiquette, but she couldn't ask what she clearly needed to ask. Not directly.

Ace helped her out and said, "What's at this Wusong place, then?"

Li looked up, gratitude in her eyes. There was the hint of tears as she blinked. "My daughter," she said. "My daughter is at Wusong. Ace – I _have_ to get her back. Or I will die trying."

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

_Shanghai, China_  
_11th April 1844_  
_7:15 am_

Ace had thought she wouldn't sleep. She was, after all, racked with aches and pains. Muffled voices and footsteps intruded often from the passageway outside. Her mind refused to slow down; between the worry she felt for the Doctor and her mounting confusion over the mystery that was unfolding, it was hard to mentally decompress.

So there'd been numerous reasons why a good night's sleep was unlikely, yet her body had decreed otherwise. Perhaps, four years into her career as space-and-time adventurer, the part of her brain that took care of things like rest had decided it would step in. Like the way soldiers learned to grab catnaps wherever they could.

Whatever the reason, Ace was surprised to find herself stirring awake from a restful sleep, as daylight penetrated the reed blind over Li's window. Her companion had already risen, leaving an unobtrusive dip in the mattress beside Ace, and was brushing her hair. A tray containing a teapot and two cups stood nearby, the steam fragrant.

Ace's tummy gurgled, as if to state, _'All very well, but where can I get a sausage sarnie?'_

Li glanced at her.

Ace blushed. "Sorry," she said. "Not very ladylike."

Li smiled. "If your body knows hunger, this is a good sign. We will eat soon, then we should see Madam Deng. This is her house."

Ace nodded. "Sounds good. Um – what should I say? How do we play this?"

"I will tell her I saw you being attacked, and I helped. I will say that last night you were too hurt to tell me where I could take you so I brought you here. The rest is up to you. If you wish to leave today and find your friend, no one will stop you. If you wish to return to the British Quarter to seek help, I will see you there safely."

Li waited, her head cocked, as if waiting for Ace to pretend that the issue with Li's daughter had never existed. Then, courage deserting her, she looked away and bustled about with the teapot.

Ace heaved herself into a sitting position with a grimace of discomfort. Everything bloody hurt. A good sleep was one thing, but injured ribs didn't heal overnight. She breathed through the pain and took the cup of tea Li had poured for her.

"Okay," Ace said after a sip. "Number one – nobody at this British place knows me. Two – if I head back to the canal and the...the blue box I mentioned, assuming I can even find the place again, I'd be worried the idiots who set about me last night will see me and have another go. In these clothes, with this face, I'm sort of conspicuous, and..." She gestured at herself: bruises and dressings and an inability to move without groaning. "I'm obviously in no state for a rematch. Still. Most importantly, number three – last night you said you needed help. I'm not done here until your problem gets sorted."

Li nodded, swallowed, looked like she was beating her own emotions back with one of her cool ninja moves. "You wish to stay here, then?"

"If it could be arranged, I think it would be safest. A good base of operations. I need to work out a plan."

"We could send runners to the canals and find your blue box," Li suggested. "Ask around about your friend."

"That would be brilliant," Ace approved, annoyed by the tremor in her voice. Her concern for the Doctor felt almost physical: a static discomfort on her skin. The fact that he'd walked right into trouble while she'd been standing only a few steps away, unable to help, made things worse, as did the way this trouble had come straight after an argument which she did not understand and which had not been resolved. "Anything you could find out – I'd appreciate it."

Li tried a smile. "Then it will come down to a transaction. It usually does with Madam Deng. She will always treat people with respect, but she will not offer her help for nothing. You will be required to earn your keep."

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, someone was talking about transactions. Ace wondered what the hell she might have that could interest the madam of a Shanghai brothel.

It took her a moment to put two and two together.

"I'm sure we'll come up with something I can do," she said flatly.

~~~

Madam Deng's house, also known as the 'Beautiful Flowers' brothel, was a three-storey building, each of its lower levels surrounded by a layered overhang, the whole thing topped with the traditional pitched roof. It was built around a spacious courtyard. The building was clean, well-maintained and attractive, with facilities that Ace suspected were not commonplace throughout the rapidly expanding trade hub of Shanghai.

Li showed her around. Water was pulled up from a central well, drilled down to an underground channel that drew from a river west of the city. The water wasn't treated, of course, but the Chinese had long since figured out that you should boil water before use. The loos were indoors, and even if they required a slightly precarious squat rather than providing a nice comfortable seat, they allowed for waste to be flushed away over ceramic tiles.

There was an area for baths too, and though there were no showers, private screened cubicles with drains in the floor allowed those in a hurry to ladle water over themselves. The washing areas were busy. Ace supposed that a brothel was the kind of place where personal hygiene was prioritised.

A busy kitchen served a communal dining area. Li got them some food, and Ace felt a stab of guilt when she realised that Li had paid for their breakfasts. It was a sharp reminder that Madam Deng's amenities were not offered for free. Nevertheless, Ace had no currency and therefore nothing to give Li except her grateful thanks. They took their bowls to a table and sat down to eat.

Though it was early in the morning for business to start, Ace found herself curious as to Li's working day. "When will your first client arrive?" she asked, as casually as she could.

"I will take tea with a gentleman caller mid-morning," Li replied.

There was a pause. Ace wondered about language and its idioms. "Take tea?" she pressed. "That's, what, some sort of euphemism, is it?"

Li looked confused. "It means we will share tea and conversation."

"And nothing else?"

"Nothing else. Not for this client. He is lonely, since his wife died. They had no children. He likes to talk to a young woman, perhaps flirt a little, and to do so without any concerns that she will scowl and call him a pervert."

"So it's just some friendly company he wants?" Ace wondered whether she could get away with offering up the same kind of platonic-escort type of work when Madam Deng gave her the once-over.

"Yes. We meet every three or four days. He is a nice man. He never fails to pay before we begin, and he sometimes brings me gifts. Small things. A flower, or a ribbon that caught his eye, or a bag of fruit." A pause. Li scooped up a spoonful of porridge and chewed it thoughtfully. "Then, after lunch I will meet a silk trader from the He'nan Road. He will want me to tie him up and bind his mouth before I fuck him."

Ace managed not to choke on her porridge. But only just.

In the conversation that followed, Ace found out quite a bit about the nature of the business Madam Deng ran. Li was indeed a courtesan, in that she offered sex as a service to some clients. She had other clients who asked her for no more than a massage – not even with a happy ending, as far as Ace could tell – and she had still others, like that very morning's caller, whose money bought them no more than an hour of tea and conversation. Li explained that sex was only a part of what clients wanted to buy. Some wanted company. Some wanted an education in the best ways to relate to women, usually prior to their intended courtship of a wife. And of course, some wanted opium and a lazy fondle. Li was curt when she told Ace that she would have nothing to do with drugs. In spite of opium's omnipresence in Shanghai, the drug was actually illegal.

Other women – and several men – who lived and worked in Madam Deng's house had different attitudes, different clients, different specialities. It was considerably more varied than Ace had realised. She listened, asked questions, did her best not to indulge any preconceptions nor, indeed, morbid fascinations.

She just gathered the information she needed, because she was about to meet the boss.

~~~

Madam Deng was short, neat and precise, with greyed hair tied back in a well-tamed knot at the nape of her neck. She looked to be around sixty years old, though she exuded such stern authority that Ace was quite sure she would never be able to ask if this assessment was correct.

That said, the brothel owner's greeting to Li seemed genuinely warm. Her scrutiny of Ace was, however, close and unnerving. Though Ace smiled and nodded when Li introduced her, she kept her mouth shut. She waited, watching, trying to get a sense of the relationship between Madam Deng and her young tenant.

Li told the story of the attack, as she had said she would. Madam Deng cast a renewed eye over Ace's battered appearance. The older woman noted the bruising, and her sternness eased as she winced with sympathy. Then she asked Li what Ace wanted.

It felt like the right time to start speaking up for herself. Ace drew back her shoulders and said, "I want a safe place to stay while I find one friend and help another."

Madam Deng's eyes widened. Her attention was transferred wholly to Ace. "A British woman who speaks our language. I am not sure I even believe in such a thing."

Ace lifted an arm. "You can pinch me if you like. You know, to make sure I'm real. One more bruise won't make much difference."

A moment. Deng looked at her. There was a glimmer of humour in the older woman's gaze. Then she stirred and turned away. She went to one of the bookshelves that lined her office and she took down a book.

"Here," she said, and offered it to Ace.

Ace read the title, which was clearly printed in English: _Hints on Etiquette and the Usages of Society_. "Okay," she said. "And why are you giving me this?"

"I want to know if you can translate it."

"Into Chinese?" Technically, of course, Ace could not. But she knew a time-and-spaceship that could. "Only verbally," Ace replied. "I, er, can't write your language."

Madam Deng tilted her head back, considering. Then she asked Ace to translate the preface. Ace opened the book and read the first paragraph aloud, relying on the TARDIS to do the rest.

"Excellent," Madam Deng said. "That will do nicely. You may have a room in my house, and I will inform the kitchens that your meals are to be provided. In return, once a day, for two hours, you will take a class in the sun-room – Miss Li will show you where – and you will translate this book. You'll begin tomorrow. Is this acceptable?"

"Okay. I mean, yes. Sounds great. Just, um – why?"

Deng smiled, more welcomingly now she'd obtained something of value. "Times change, here in Shanghai. Trade is everything, now. Merchants from Britain, from France, even from America – they converge on this city like flies on shit." She either didn't notice Ace's double take at her coarse language, or she didn't care about it. "It's only a matter of time before Westerners will need more staff than those they brought with them over the ocean. There will be opportunities."

Ace nodded. "I see."

"My house, Miss Ace – it is not merely a brothel, a place of pleasure for the citizens of Shanghai who can afford it. My house is also a lifeline. It is a means for those without hope to find shelter, purpose, agency." Deng's eyes flicked to Li, then back again. "Do you see?"

"Actually, I think I do," Ace said.

Deng sat down behind her desk. "For a long time, Shanghai has been a place where to be born poor means you will die poor. And probably young. With these new opportunities, some might escape the restrictions of their birth."

"And you think I can help them? By teaching them etiquette?"

"I'm sure you can. Would you recruit a Chinese maidservant who knows how to address a duchess correctly, or one who fumbles her grasp of titles?"

"Actually I don't know any duchesses. But I take your point."

Deng nodded. "I'm also sure that when _I_ am provided with the full translation of this book, as transcribed by your students, I will also be in a better position to deal with wealthy Western merchants."

Ace nodded slowly. "And everybody wins."

"That's the plan, Miss Ace." Deng leaned forward, took up a pen and looked Ace straight in the eye. "Now. What's this about a friend you need to find?"

~~~

That night, she dreamed.

_"Ace!"_

_In the blackness of an aching, empty void, Ace was without any sense of direction. She heard the Doctor calling for her and she desperately wanted to respond, but sorting out which way to run was impossible. She couldn't see her own feet. In fact, she wasn't sure she currently_ owned _feet._

_"Ace, please!"_

_"Where are you?" she cried back, except her voice came out as barely a croak._

_The Doctor didn't answer. She decided that any course of action was better than hanging around making croaky noises. Ace turned in the blackness, picked a direction and forged ahead._

_"_ _Doctor!" she rasped. Still croaky, but her sense of determination appeared to fuel her ability to vocalise. "Hold on, I'm coming!"_

_She ran. Or maybe she flew, or swam, or something else. Either way, the blackness began to lift until it seemed that she moved through a dark, swirling mist rather than a simple absence-of-light. Splotches, glimmers, irregularities: the world was forming up around her._

_"Ace!"_

_The Doctor's voice did not seem to be fading, which indicated that her current direction was not the wrong one, at least. Ace closed her eyes, lowered her head, swung arms she couldn't see, and she put on as much of a burst of speed as she could._

_"Keep calling!" she rasped. "I'll find you. I will. Just keep call–"_

Ace woke up in the narrow bed of her newly private room, halfway through a strangled attempt to call out. It took her quite some time to get back to sleep.

~~~

_12th April 1844_  
_9:30 am_

The sun room was airy, clean and – predictably – well-lit thanks to a large picture window at the rear which looked out onto Madam Deng's paved courtyard: a space filled with paths, benches and wooden planters burgeoning with spring greenery.

Ace stood with her back to the window. She watched, holding her nerves in check, as four young men and two young women came through the door. They took seats along benches set either side of a long communal table, arranged with its end towards Ace. Pens, mostly carved from bamboo, though there was one conspicuous quill, and ink were readied. Ace waited. In her hands she held Madam Deng's book: _Hints on Etiquette and the Usages of Society_. It was small, relatively slim and cloth-bound, with no dust-jacket and a cracked spine. Since it had secured for her room and board, right along with the time to heal and to plan, it was currently Ace's favourite book in the whole wide world.

So here she was. Earning her keep. On Iceworld she'd been a waitress; on Colonis she'd been a police officer. Now she appeared to have been engaged as a schoolteacher.

"Good morning," she said to the gathered group when they seemed settled and ready.

They were all polite, almost deferential, as they returned the greeting. There were looks, though, darting between individuals, which conveyed their surprise at this white woman speaking what Ace now knew to be the Shanghai-centric dialect of Wu-Chinese. Apparently, before the recent treaty that had ended the war, the Qing government – China's ruling authority – had deemed it illegal for foreign nationals to learn any of the Chinese languages.

"Madam Deng has told me that you want to find work with foreign merchants, here or overseas," Ace said.

The group nodded at her, looking attentive. Ace was pretty sure none of her own schoolteachers had ever faced a class of such conscientious students.

"I can't teach you to speak English," Ace said. "I don't have the skill. But I can teach you about the customs and behaviours you'll come across." She held up the book. "It's all in here. And for the record? Some of it is bonkers."

The students frowned, and a couple of them smiled uncertainly. Ace admonished herself that while the TARDIS was probably doing a bang-up job of translating her spoken words, she needed to watch her slang.

"Please stop me and ask a question if you need to," she said. "Otherwise, let's begin."

Nibs were dipped in ink, then six faces turned to look at her.

Ace opened the book to the preface and read out loud, "'This is not written for those who do, but for those who do not know what is proper...'"

~~~

_"Ace!" the Doctor cried._

_"I'm coming," she muttered. She'd learned that if she kept her vocalisations quiet then she wasn't so likely to choke on her own attempts to speak._

_"Cold," he said. "Cold, cold, cold coldcoldcold..."_

_She frowned as she forged through the dimness. The Doctor was feeling the cold? But his normal body temperature was several degrees lower than her own. What was happening to him?_

_She looked around. The swirly black mist was clearing a little at a time. Out of sight, far beyond the curtains of dark drifting cloud, she heard the faintest hints of noise. Industrial noises? Hammers on metal, heavy chains rattling over pulleys, the clanging echoes generated in large chambers filled with flat, reflective surfaces. She could almost smell fire and iron and sulphur._

_Why was the Doctor so cold if there was fire to work metal?_

_"Doctor! Hang on!" Her voice became a rasp as she tried too hard for volume._

_"Ace?"_

_His voice was growing quieter. She didn't know whether she was going the wrong way or the Doctor was weakening._

_"I'm coming," she whispered, as she made a decision and swerved right. "You have to hang on. I will find you."_

_"Ace, please, please..."_

She blinked open her eyes, then she breathed deeply. Her ribs protested but she ignored them. That was two nights in a row she'd had a stress-dream about the Doctor being in trouble. Weird, that they'd started to form a kind of narrative.

Suspiciously weird, in fact.

But the Doctor did not have the ability to touch his mind to hers, not from any distance. Time Lords were touch-telepaths; Ace knew that. And okay, she'd seen the Doctor do things that made this rule something of a grey area. He could influence without touching, like the way he'd convinced the people at the Gore Crow Hotel that they wanted to be evacuated. But that had required eye-contact.

He was, nonetheless, the Doctor. He was clever, determined, and he could always find a way to improvise. Had he found some method to get a message to her?

She thought about that for a while, before she sighed and put the idea aside. It was only hope talking. She needed to rely on her _own_ cleverness and determination. Not to mention, Madam Deng's runners.

She needed to find the TARDIS. To do that, she needed tangibles, not dreams.

~~~

_13th April 1844_  
_10:32 am_

"'The application of a knife to fish is likely to destroy the delicacy of its flavour,'" Ace read from the etiquette book. She wondered, idly, as she allowed her earnest students time to make their earnest notes, what the application of a polystyrene tray and a little wooden fork was likely to do, since that was her own experience of eating fish. "'Besides which, fish sauces are often acidulated' – blimey, is that even a word?...sorry!" She coughed and smiled at her class. "Sorry. As I was saying – 'often acidulated; acids corrode steel and draw from it a disagreeable taste. In the north, where lemon or vinegar is very generally used for salmon and many other kinds of fish, the objection becomes more apparent.'"

So you couldn't use a knife on fish because of spoiling the flavour. Presumably you had to eat it with something other than your fingers, though, because, well, _etiquette_. Which meant a fork. Which, as far as Ace knew, was usually made of exactly the same stuff as the bloody knife. So how did that make any difference?

This book was chock full of bullshit.

She turned to look out of the window behind her as nibs scratched ink over paper. Etiquette was so pretentious. She was pretty sure the writer of this book had made up most of his stupid rules. Was it possible that etiquette existed only because a few wankers had decided to put themselves forward as 'knowledgeable'? And the masses were so gullible that they were happy to let some self-proclaimed expert show them the way? And once the wankers had seen how much power and control this gave them, they'd perpetuated the ideas, changing details every now and then just to stay important, stay relevant, keep the masses on their toes?

Seemed possible. She was pretty sure that was how religion had been invented, too.

Ace turned back to her class, took a breath, and read, "'Eat peas with a dessert spoon; and curry also.'"

She wondered whether Madam Deng would fire her if she gave in to the urge to piss herself laughing at this bodge of a book.

~~~

_"Are you here?" she called softly into the grey mist. It was like being inside a storm cloud, but without the wetness._

_"Ace?" the Doctor whispered._

_"I'm here. I'm coming. I'm still coming." She turned and tried to orient herself, but it was useless. "Please keep talking."_

_"Hurts," he sighed._

_"I'm sorry," she said, feeling a stab of guilt. "I wish I could find you."_

_"Trying," he said. "I can only do so much."_

_"Just hold on." She moved through the smoky cloud. After a moment, alarmed by his silence she added, "Think about something else. Think about good things."_

_"Ace," he whispered._

_"Come on. Good memories. You're almost a thousand, you must have a few."_

_There was a long pause. Too long. Ace was on the verge of panicking, when:_

_"The colours in spring on the slopes of Mount Cadon," he said. "Shalrose blooming. Bronze under the silver leaves of the limpol trees."_

_"There you go. That sounds nice."_

_"Susan. Her face, oh, her beautiful face. When we realised. We'd done it. We were free."_

_"Keep going," she encouraged. She thought his voice was getting louder._

_"Music. Timbre. Harmonics. The piercing insistence of a trumpet, the soft well of yearning in a saxophone, the incandescent joy of a brimshur."_

_"What's a brimshur?"_

_"Like...like a Cor Anglais. Deeper. Visceral. More heartfelt. From Floreena Prime."_

_"Sounds like we've got our next gig lined up, then."_

_"Yes. Yes. I'll...try not to spoil this one."_

_Ace blinked at the reference. "All good memories," she said. "Think about those."_

_She waited, listened, tried to will herself closer._

_"Ace," he said, and the sound was one of a man trying desperately to keep body and soul together. "We shouldn't have quarrelled."_

_"I know. I'm sorry."_

_"It was my fault. I was being provocative."_

_"Why?"_

_A long, long pause._

_"Doctor?"_

_"I'm waiting. Ace, I'm waiting. How long?"_

_"I'm coming as fast as I can. Don't think about that, think about the good memories. Remember?"_

_"Ace," he whispered. "_ Wabi-sabi _."_

Wabi-sabi _: the beauty in imperfection. Those Japanese characters had been painted on her arm with henna by a stranded alien in a field in New York State. Ace hadn't yet worked out whether the Doctor's insistence on associating this idea with her was breathtakingly poignant or slyly insulting._

_"We're in the wrong bit of Asia," she countered. Then: "Come on, you must have better memories than me at a rock festival."_

_"I'm not sure I do," he whispered, and for the first time his voice was roughened with affection rather than agony._

_"You're far too easily pleased," she said._

_"Ace."_

_"I'm on my way. I need you to hold on."_

She woke up without any kind of flinch or shudder. For a moment she blinked at the ceiling above her head.

"Okay," she said, "if I just dreamed that conversation on my own, I'm the Queen of Sheba."

~~~

_14th April 1844_  
_2:34 pm_

In a small field on the southern outskirts of Shanghai, not far from the busy Huangpu river, Ace practised some basic defensive moves with her friend, Li Renxiang, the teenage prostitute.

"I don't feel very much like a ninja spirit of the night," she complained, as she lost balance and stumbled.

"Ninja is Japanese," Li said, with a haughty distaste that made Ace wonder if she needed to do more reading on Earth's historical conflicts. "And it is afternoon."

"These are all good points," Ace acceded.

Four days had gone by since the attack, and though her bruises had mostly just changed colour she knew she was healing. Her ribs still hurt, of course, which was why the lessons currently underway did not involve any kind of rough-and-tumble. Li's moves were more like slow choreographed dances.

It was nice to get out of the brothel. While Madam Deng's hospitality – and, Ace had come to realise, her protection – was welcome, she'd begun to feel constricted by the walls of the building. It made sense to keep her face away from the streets, at least until she was fully fit again. Madam Deng had provided clothing that made her less likely to stick out like a sore thumb, but there was little Ace could do about her complexion or the colour of her hair.

"Madam Deng got word today that Duyi has found your blue box," Li said, almost like it was a by-the-way.

"Really? Brilliant!" The rush of relief was potent. After a series of oddly linked dreams, Ace was convinced that the Doctor was in real trouble. "Where is it? Can you get me there? I can use it to–"

"It is not where you left it," Li said.

"Someone moved the TARDIS?" Ace felt a momentary surge of panic; without the TARDIS it would be a lot trickier to pinpoint the Doctor's location and rescue him.

"Duyi found the canal. The locals there report that the blue box was taken away on a cart, the day after we met."

Sounded like whoever had captured the Doctor had come back for the ship. Maybe some canal-side witness had seen Ace and the Doctor leave the TARDIS: enough to tie them to the blue box. It couldn't have been taken far, though. If the TARDIS had left this time and place then Ace's etiquette lessons wouldn't be going nearly as well as they were.

"Did Duyi find out where it was taken?" Ace asked. Because surely a weird-looking blue box on the back of a cart would have attracted some attention. Enough for a diligent ten year old in the employ of Madam Deng to track its journey, anyway.

Li met her gaze and said, "North. With the river." A meaningful pause. "Wusong."

Wusong? Where had Ace heard that word before? It took a moment before she put it together. "Wusong," she repeated. "That's where you said your daughter was being held."

"Yes," Li said simply.

This rather suggested that the matter of Li's stolen daughter was somehow linked to the Doctor's abduction. The only other clue Ace had been able to bring to the table so far was her knowledge of a heavily-guarded barge on the canal, and men who were armed with guns that were ahead of their time. Li had encouraged her to be entirely open with Madam Deng, which had proved useful advice in recent days. Madam Deng had not been surprised to learn of the barge and the guards. While her brothel was primarily a legitimate business, Madam Deng also had a number of sidelines that required connections with organised criminality. She knew, therefore, that these armed guards had been making waves throughout Shanghai. Violent crime was on the rise; gunshot deaths were becoming commonplace. As it turned out, when someone kitted thuggish locals out with better weapons than anyone else had, the thuggish locals didn't always restrict themselves to the job in hand.

Which was why Madam Deng had been able to find out from a business contact that one such armed guard had been captured and questioned when attempting to hold up a delivery of opium bound for one of the higher class smoking houses. Under questioning, and without the reassurance of that big heavy revolver in his hand, he'd caved and admitted that his crew worked out of a repurposed fort situated north of Shanghai, near the place where the Huangpu river joined the Yangtze estuary.

It had to be Wusong. The guns were coming from there. Li's daughter was captive there. Now, it seemed that the TARDIS had been taken there. All of which meant that Ace was reasonably sure she could combine a trip to rescue Li's daughter with one to rescue the Doctor. At least she'd save on the mileage.

"We're going to need intelligence on what's going on up there," Ace said.

"Madam Deng has said this to Duyi and his friends."

"Good." Rushing in recklessly wasn't going to help anyone, in spite of the urge she felt to do just that. Whoever was orchestrating events up at Wusong had access to out-of-time technology, and lots of trigger-happy recruits to use it.

Of course, Ace had some out-of-time technology of her own. Her stun-gun, rendered useless a few days ago when a thug had picked it up and then smacked it into a stone wall, had slowly been repairing itself. The crystal circuitry would soon pack its usual punch. Once Ace had a functional weapon, she knew she could wait no longer. Not even if her ribs still hurt every time she drew a deep breath.

For a while, Ace focused on Li's lesson: how to jab an attacker in the windpipe. The girl might not yet be seventeen, but she had skills.

"Feels like I'm going to break my fingers," Ace complained.

"You will not. The tissue is soft here. You do not have to be forceful, simply firm and fast."

Ace tried again, aware she couldn't hope to master the technique until she could practise it properly. Doing so would require a genuine attacker whose throat she was prepared to jab. "Here?" she asked, moving her straightened hand and arm in where Li directed.

"It took me a long time to learn this strike," Li confessed, after adjusting Ace's aim. "Defending punches is easy. Offering your own requires a desire to hurt someone. That is easier for men than women, I think."

Ace winced. "Depends on the someone," she said. "But you're right. Retaliation's always been easier. Even for a messed up kid like I was."

Throat-jabs perfected as far as they could manage, they moved on to kicks. Always below the waist, Li instructed, otherwise Ace would leave herself vulnerable to counterattack at her exposed groin or on her standing leg.

As they worked, Li said, "You think your friend the Doctor had me write the note that let me find you."

They'd discussed this only briefly. Ace couldn't blame Li for being curious. "Yes. I think so."

"Could he have made me forget the writing of it?"

Ace grimaced. The Doctor could screw with someone's memory in any number of ways; she'd seen the evidence. "Perhaps."

"How did your friend even know you would be attacked?"

"He knows stuff. He's got...talents."

"An oracle?"

"Sort of."

Li nodded. She demonstrated the best angles to use when kicking someone's knee, then said, "If he has the talents of a mystic, he would be valuable to my enemy."

Li's enemy was the man who had possession of her twelve month old daughter. As far as Ace could tell, though, this man was just another soldier. Nothing special. Which meant that he was unlikely to be the mastermind behind the anachronistic weapons.

Ace knew she needed to identify the _real_ problem. Something was going on in this time and place; something so potentially devastating that the TARDIS had noticed and brought them here. Ace wanted to know who had brought cartridge-loading revolvers to post-war Shanghai; who had demonstrated an interest in the Doctor's time-and-spaceship; who had abducted and might have been torturing the Doctor. Ace was not discounting all she had seen and heard in her dreams.

"The Doctor," Ace said in reply, "would be valuable to a whole lot of people. But he's also stubborn and clever and he would rather die than allow someone to use him to hurt others. So I wouldn't worry."

Li looked at her. "You worry, though, do you not?"

Ace blinked, bit at her lip, tried to keep herself calm. "Course I do," she said. "Just 'cause _he_ doesn't value his own life over and above everyone else doesn't mean I feel the same."

"And my daughter's life?"

Ace's expression hardened. "I'll help get your daughter back. I said I would and I meant it."

Li looked down at the ground. "I did not mean to impugn your honour."

"You didn't. You asked a question." Ace sighed. "This place, Wusong – it's obviously important."

"Yes."

"You know it, I take it?"

Li looked away. For a moment, she trembled. "Yes."

Ace nodded, more to herself than to her friend. While she sympathised completely with Li's reluctance to revisit painful memories, they'd reached the point where the information Li could offer was more important than her privacy. "You haven't told me what happened, yet," Ace said, as gently as she could. "Or no more than the bare essentials, anyway."

"I must be cautious. There are some who would betray my secrets. My enemy has power. Connections. Madam Deng warned me to be circumspect."

"But she knows about what happened."

"She does."

Ace looked around. The traffic along the nearby river was steady. Her eyes narrowed as she noted a barge which sat low in the water. It was loaded with canvas-wrapped bundles and was heading north. Another barge of similar size and shape was going the other way, empty and making good speed even as it was poled along against the current. The navigators on both boats acknowledged each other with a wave as their vessels drew level.

"Seems like we've got some peace and quiet for now," Ace pointed out, turning away from the river. "Would this be a good time?"

They sat down in the middle of the field in the spring sunshine, and Li told Ace her story.

~~~

Li Renxiang's mother had died when Li was four years old. She was raised by her father, a retired military officer of some seniority, whose service had seen him gifted a house and some land west of Suzhou, bordering a lake. Apart from the loss of her mother, her childhood had been one of comfort and security.

Her father had been recalled to service in 1839, during the lead up to the recent trade war. China did not have a Navy that was anything like a match for British warships, and it needed trained and experienced officers wherever garrisons could be established along China's substantial coastline. Li's father was sent to the ancient fort at Wusong, repurposed to repel a more modern invasion. He led a garrison of soldiers, their standing orders to watch for enemy encroachment up the Yangtze River towards Nanjing.

Li had been twelve years old. In her father's absence she had gone to live with her father's brother. She'd done so without complaint, right up until the moment her older cousin had attempted to molest her.

Her uncle tried to keep the incident quiet to the extent that he called Li a liar, but Li had been brought up to believe in herself. She'd written to her father and explained what happened, and asked him whose council she should seek in order to protect herself from future assaults. Six days later a pair of armed soldiers had turned up at her uncle's house with a letter from her father. She'd packed a bag as instructed and left with them. Her uncle had loudly claimed that it was as well his brother was removing such a problematic and deceitful child from his guardianship. One of the soldiers had stepped forward and punched her uncle hard enough to break his nose.

That soldier's name was Yang Junjie. At the time he was sixteen years old. Li had never forgotten the way he'd guided her away from that house with a careful, consoling arm, and formally handed her up to the cart which would carry her eastwards to reunite with her father.

The journey had taken two days, and the reunion was sweet. The facilities at the fort were limited, so Li found lodging with an older couple in nearby Wusong town. During the days, she was happy enough to pitch in and help her father at the fort where she could.

Weeks became months became years. Li's friendship with Yang blossomed. She learned to defend herself, helped her father with paperwork, lived a life of relative freedom. For all of that time the war was a long way away.

The situation changed during the spring of 1842. It became apparent that the British were turning their attention to the Yangtze River. Li's father received word from an Admiral of the Qing Navy that further troops and ships were heading for the area. All along the coast, the British fleet had been taking forts, ports and towns. Horrific stories emerged of the behaviour of British soldiers in the places they captured. Li, now fifteen years old, was sent away from the coast in the protection of Yang. The two of them were told to avoid major towns, to keep moving, to stay alive. Within a couple of weeks, they heard that the British had captured Wusong Fort and town. Shanghai had fallen soon after.

Li and Yang had managed to stay safe for six whole months in the wetlands and forests north of the fort, further up the Yangtze River. They'd hunted game, sought help from outlying villages and farms, and most significantly they had fallen in love. The hardships might have been difficult, but for Li they were outweighed by the romance, the adventure, the togetherness. When news reached them in early autumn that a treaty had been signed and the war was over, she felt a sense of reluctance as they decided to return to the fort.

This reluctance was partly down to the fact that Li was now visibly pregnant.

Li's return to Wusong was not happy. She discovered that her father had been killed in the fighting. British officers now occupied the fort in the aftermath of the war. Yang was seized, tried and executed for desertion by a Chinese puppet official who'd been put in place to make the conquering Brits feel less like invaders and more like benevolent trading partners. In an unfortunate twist, however, the new man in charge was well known to Li. Zhu Zhixin had been a trusted deputy to her father throughout their years at Wusong. He'd watched Li grow up. He'd watched her with apparently covetous interest. Li was quite sure this was the reason Yang had been killed: jealousy.

When Zhu claimed Li Renxiang and her unborn child for himself, the British officials had shrugged and permitted him to get on with whatever he claimed local custom demanded. Still paralysed by shock and grief, Li had been forcibly married to him. She was held captive within the fort. By the time her grief turned to outrage, her pregnancy had rendered her cautious when it came to thoughts of escape, especially as the season was turning cold and unfriendly in the countryside beyond the walls that imprisoned her.

She'd given birth to her daughter, Wenling, in the spring of 1843. For three months thereafter she had waited, and watched, and tried her best to ensure her daughter became stronger and more robust, such that she might weather the escape that Li was desperate to undertake. Summer was drawing to an end by the time Li decided she could wait no longer.

And in fact the escape succeeded; Li got away from her 'husband'. Unfortunately she escaped without her daughter in tow.

She'd stolen enough money to pay a supply-wagon driver to smuggle her out of the fort and get her most of way into the rapidly-expanding city of Shanghai. From there, she hoped to establish some anonymity and work long enough to buy passage back to Suzhou, where she might find genuine friends and some proper help.

But the driver had double-crossed her, taking her money and then dumping her by the roadside, three miles south of the fort. He'd turned back, perhaps assuming he could double his money if he delivered the baby back to Zhu. He hadn't counted on Li's determination. She had picked herself up and jogged back to the fort. She'd caught up with the driver at the ferry across the Huangpu. He'd been amazed and frightened by her reappearance; he'd no doubt expected her to race for the shelter of Shanghai and consider herself lucky.

Knowing she could identify his face, the driver had handed the baby back to her and then used her distraction, as she'd examined her daughter, to knock her unconscious. He must have driven her some way back down the track alongside the river, where he'd dumped her at an isolated bit of riverbank, face first in the water. He'd driven off with the baby once again, this time sure that he was leaving behind a corpse.

He hadn't realised Li had regained consciousness in the minutes before he discarded her. Nor had he realised she'd grown up in a house with a lake view, and she'd been swimming before she could walk, and she could hold her breath for over two minutes.

Left alone, Li had snagged her sleeve on a tree branch and pulled hard. The torn scrap of material would be found, she knew. The driver would eventually be questioned, and the assumption would be that her body had been washed out to the Yangtze and possibly to sea. Most importantly, Zhu would not look for her if he believed her dead. She'd had nothing: no possessions, no more money, no strength. Just a burning need to get back to Wusong and recover her daughter. But she knew she couldn't do it alone; she needed help. She'd walked all the way into Shanghai – a journey that took her over seven hours, avoiding the thoroughfares – and found her way to a trusted friend of her father's who worked in one of the guild halls in the walled part of the old town. The friend had turned her over to his wife. The wife had turned her over to the owner of the _Meili de Huaduo_ brothel. One more Beautiful Flower for the bouquet.

~~~

"I will attack," Li said suddenly, and stood up. It seemed her story was over. "You may choose the defence. Turn your back."

For a moment Ace looked at her friend: this young woman who had been through so much and still found ways to fight back. How could you not respect that? She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. The only thing she could do that really mattered was help to recover Wenling.

"Turn your back," Li repeated. With her eyes, she begged Ace not to make any comment. Telling her story had clearly been difficult.

Ace nodded and faced away from her friend. She drew a breath just deep enough to hurt, then let it out slowly. Apparently it was a good sign that her lungs weren't crackly with infection.

Li made no sound as she crept up behind. Ace turned so that the sun was behind her and the shadows playing along the grass of the field might offer warning of movement. One of Ace's shoulders was grabbed, then an arm came over the other shoulder and pressed her throat.

Fingers. That had worked well. Ace grabbed for Li's hand in order to pull her fingers apart, hard, in directions that fingers were not meant to be pulled. Li had, however, anticipated; her exposed hand was in a tight fist.

Okay, ears. Pulling an attacker's ears could cause so much pain that they'd let go and stop fighting. Ace reached behind herself, found Li's head and dragged her hands over it to try to catch Li's ears. Li ducked and jerked her head back.

"You need to be faster for that one," Li said, without any trace of exertion in her voice.

"I don't actually want to hurt you," Ace pointed out.

"I will ask you to cease your attack if it becomes necessary."

Which was, Ace considered, a diplomatic way of saying, 'You couldn't hurt me if you tried, you lumbering British oaf.' She smiled.

Okay, then. Li was insistent that self-defence required an awareness of your opponent's vulnerabilities. Usually an attacker would be bigger and heavier than Ace. Not today.

Ace curled into a crouch, as quickly as her injuries allowed. Since Li could not take Ace's weight, she could either follow her down and risk being pulled over Ace's shoulder, or she could let go.

She let go.

"Good," Li said, before Ace could get up again. "You have defended this attack. Now you must defend yourself while in a vulnerable position." She gently nudged Ace's shoulder with the tip of her foot. Ace lost balance and fell to her side.

"Ow," Ace said.

"Do you wish to stop?"

"No. I wish to have ribs that don't hurt." Ace looked up from her prone position. "In fairness, my footwork is usually better than that."

"Then you already understand that you should avoid being on the ground with a standing attacker."

"Yup. Understood." She thought back to the lane where she'd been attacked. "But it sometimes happens."

Li stood over her. "The first thing you should do is roll to your back and pull your legs up."

Ace followed the instruction. A brief lesson on defending oneself while on the ground followed.

"Of course," Li said when they were both standing again, "your heavy boots will help when you kick out. Attackers do not like the idea that they will be attacked."

Ace nodded. "Bullies. Worst of the worst." She stretched and felt tentatively around her middle. Her sore ribs were throbbing with the exercise, but they hurt no more than they had all day.

"We should rest," Li said. "Drink some water."

Ace nodded and checked her watch. "How long before your next client?"

Li looked up at the sky. "A while yet. When is your next class?"

"Not till tomorrow morning." Ace smiled. "And when I tell the Doctor I got room and board at a house of ill repute in exchange for giving lessons on Victorian etiquette, he will either laugh his head off or..." She considered. "No. No other option. Just laugh his head off."

"What is funny about Victorian etiquette?" asked Li.

"Okay, well, let's see... _everything_. Page one, onwards." Ace shook her head as she and Li began to walk across the field to the shaded area where they could cool down and rehydrate. "For instance, you should never introduce someone to another person without making sure beforehand that they're both happy about it."

Li blinked. "Then both people must be interviewed prior to an introduction?"

"That's the idea."

"What happens if one person decides they would like to be introduced but the other does not?"

"Then the introduction doesn't happen."

"But the person who was in favour of the introduction would know why it didn't happen."

"I suppose they would."

"Might they not take that as an insult?"

"Probably. I mean, I would. You know, it's best not to analyse it too much. It'll do your head in."

They reached their rest area and sat down. The sunshine through the dappled shade was pleasant.

"Madam Deng says she has never heard another European speak our language so naturally," Li said.

Ace gave a small smile. "I can't really claim the credit."

There was a comfortable pause, as they shared a flask of cold water and enjoyed the fresh air.

"If you are in agreement," Li said, "I would be happy for you to use my given name."

Ace nodded. "Renxiang," she said. "I'm honoured." It seemed like the right thing to say.

Li looked slightly expectant.

"Oh," Ace added, "'Ace' is my nickname. But if you want to call me 'Dorothy' – my given name – you can."

Li gave a solemn nod. "I thank you. Which name do you prefer?"

"I usually avoid 'Dorothy' because I don't like it much."

"What is your family name?"

"McShane."

"I will use your nickname," Li said. "Does it have a meaning?"

Ace took a long pull of water. "Normally it means 'brilliant' or 'expert' or some such. But my friend Manisha gave me the name when I managed to score one out of twenty on a French vocab test." Ace grinned. "She said to me, 'That's not actually how you ace a test. Ace.' And it sort of stuck."

"I don't understand."

"Ace. It's the 'one' in a pack of cards, you know?" Ace sighed. "Doesn't matter. Manisha was just being ironic."

"Your friend insulted you?"

"Teased. Manisha didn't have a cruel bone in her body."

A pause.

"You lost her. Your friend," Li said.

Ace swallowed and looked away. "Yes."

Li got to her feet and began to collect her things. "Then we must be sure you do not lose another one. When do you wish to go to Wusong?"

Ace got up too. "Let's see what Duyi has to say. Unless he gives us a reason not to try, I'd suggest tomorrow. After your last client."

Li nodded. "I will speak to Madam Deng about the arrangements."

They began the walk back into the city.

~~~

_"Ace?"_

_"I'm here." A pause. "You're supposed to be thinking beautiful thoughts."_

_"It's all right. He's given up for now. He couldn't keep contact."_

_"Contact?"_

_"He tried to force me to submit. Mind-bending. A confrontation of mental powers."_

_Ace glided through the mists, half-flying, half-swimming. She frowned. "He's a telepath?"_

_"Yes. A strong one. But too easily distracted. He isn't so full of memory as I."_

_The Doctor sounded weary, but he didn't sound like he was being tortured._

_"You're being left alone, then?" Ace asked._

_"For now."_

_"I'm on my way. I know how to find you, now."_

_With that, the mists vanished. Ace surged into light so bright she had to blink._

_"You don't have to say that," the Doctor said flatly. "I know you're only a figment."_

_"Who are you calling 'figment'? I'll have you know_ you're _the one that's the bloody stress-dream!"_

_A pause._

_"Ace?" The Doctor sounded uncertain._

_"Still here." The light stopped dazzling her and she could look around. There was a shoreline, an expanse of water and an island in the distance. Clouds of evil-looking black smoke rose from the isle. "I'm not a figment."_

_"Well, figments always say that, don't they? It's all right. I'm protecting myself, that's all."_

_"Protecting yourself from what?"_

_"The idea that I might be alone."_

_Ace huffed and turned away from the view across the water. Behind her she found a grey, shingle-covered beach and beyond that a lot of greenery: trees, shrubs, thickets. Emerging from the green was stonework, ancient, battle-scarred, with platforms and alcoves for big guns, and men apparent on the upper battlements._

_Wusong Fort?_

_"Well, then," she said. "You're going to feel a proper 'nana when I show up, aren't you?"_

_She felt his smile, though she could not see it._

_"Can't wait," he whispered._

Ace woke up. She breathed, looked around, thought about what was happening. She understood now. Who needed a telephone when you had a TARDIS that was telepathically attuned to two separate brains?

"Hi there, precious box," she told the distant ship in a whisper. How could there not be a connection between them, when the ship was constantly providing her with language skills? They'd been connected for four years. The ship knew her as well as she knew herself. "I'm coming to rescue you, too."

She took up her stun-gun and triggered its unfolding mechanism. Across the side of the grip where her thumb rested, a series of backlit symbols pulsed briefly. The gun was functional again.

It was time for some action.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Hints on Etiquette and the Usages of Society' by Charles William Day was originally published in 1834. You can see a copy of the text online [here](https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.%24b263723&view=1up&seq=13).


	4. Chapter 4

_Shanghai, China_  
_15th April 1844_  
_2:45 pm_

Ace tugged at the folds of her skirts and pulled a face. She'd never understood the Victorian tendency to dress women in circus tents. The incompetence of the design was evident at every point of the anatomy: where the skirt was beyond impractical, the top part of the dress was close-fitting and adorned with lace. An _explosion_ of lace. More lace than was, frankly, necessary; the scratchy, horrible stuff had been sewn into any and every position where it was likely to cause irritation to the skin. This ensemble was worn over a corset of bone: not so absurdly tight as Ace had feared, but rigid and restrictive nonetheless.

Safe to say, Ace hated this fucking dress.

She had drawn the line at ringlets. Madam Deng's stylist had insisted that her hair should match the fashion of those few British ladies available for study within the British Quarter of Shanghai. There were lines that Ace simply would not cross, however, and 'ringlets' was one of them. A compromise had been reached: a centre-parting and loose sweeps round the back to a tidy bun. The style made her look painfully middle-aged, but ringlets would have been worse.

The only upside to this outfit? That massive skirt hid a multitude of sins. She'd been able to keep her Docs on, never mind the stylist's look of horror as she'd sat on the side of her bed and laced them up. (Seriously. Life had taught her that you never knew when some bellend would need a kick.) Most of her bruises were safely undercover. There were bundled layers of a ruffly sort of over-skirt just below her waist that probably had some fashion-name that Ace couldn't even guess at. It was a good place to sew a pair of pouches. All the ruffles hid the bulk; Nitro and stun-gun were thus safely hidden and easily accessible. Sorted.

A knock sounded at her door. Ace called admittance, and Li came inside. Li's eyes widened as she took in Ace in all her feminine Victorian finery.

"I know," Ace said gloomily. "I look a right wazzock."

"I don't know what that is," Li said, the TARDIS apparently failing to furnish a translation. "You look like a British lady."

"I'd rather be wearing your outfit," Ace complained, looking enviously at the loose, dark silk trousers and braided shirt her friend sported.

Li's job this evening was twofold. Firstly, she was to ensure that their ride home did not vamoose after Ace had been delivered to the fort. Secondly, she was to avoid being seen by anyone at the fort or in the town nearby. It was a small community and someone might recognise her, maybe even report her presence to Zhu, the man Li was technically married to. Still, Ace knew she couldn't ask Li to sit out the mission, wait here at the brothel where she was safe; Ace wasn't that cruel. And if she somehow managed to leave Wusong later this evening with a babe in arms, she'd be only too happy to hand off the infant to its mother as swiftly as possible and then smile at the charming reunion. From a small distance. (In recent years Ace had come to suspect she'd make a terrific auntie, but a terrible mum.)

Nevertheless, including Li in the mission was a risk. Hers was the face that might spark trouble.

"All set?" Ace asked, giving up on her attempt to find a more comfortable position for her lacy sleeves and neckline. Even with the window open, so many layers of cloth and lace and boning left her feeling stifled.

"All is ready. Mr Tian and our driver await."

Ace nodded and went to the table beneath the window in her room. There, on parchment, Duyi the runner had drawn a passable map of the area near the fort, noting approaches, sentries and even two good hiding places should they be needed. Duyi had wanted to come along on the adventure this evening. Ace had needed to put her foot down. The kid was only ten years old.

She rolled up the parchment and handed it off to Li; Ace had memorised the layout already. "Right then," she said. She took a deep breath and raised the natural pitch of her voice by several tones. "Ey'd better start prectising my pawsh eccent, hed I nawt?"

Li blinked at her.

"Yeah, I know," Ace said, already convinced she'd bitten off way more than she could chew. "Can't do posh."

"Maybe if you didn't...try so hard?" Li suggested tentatively. "Or does it sound different when you speak the words in English?"

Ace huffed and indicated they should leave the room. Truth be told, this language business was starting to make her head ache.

"Ace – your wrap, and your bonnet and gloves," Li added.

Ah yes. The crowning glory, no pun intended. The bonnet was one of the most hideous things Ace had ever been expected to place about her person. It was made of frills, ribbons, lace and flowers, and it was huge.

All of which was beside the point. It was a _bonnet_ , and today Dorothy McShane was going to wear it. Voluntarily.

Ace repressed the urge to shudder and went to retrieve the items from her bed.

~~~

The carriage, with its well-behaved pair of horses, was better than Ace had expected. Over recent days she'd become used to seeing carts and carriages drawn by horses or oxen. She'd seen litters carried by people too, and merchants pushing hand carts that looked like big wheelbarrows, and a few sedan chairs. This carriage, however, looked like the kind of thing a posh British woman might insist on.

Madam Deng had gone above and beyond with all the help: clothes, advice, transport, back story. It was transactional, of course. Shanghai's underbelly was seething at the moment thanks to the influx of dangerous guns. Through Ace, Madam Deng had a way to find out what was going on in Wusong without needing to commit to an investigation that might connect back to her. Apparently white faces were treated well up near the fort, where a team of British officials from the dominant Apcar and Company merchant group remained in place, helping to oversee Shanghai's transition from traditional old town to international trading port. To that end the Huangpu River was being dug out in places, to allow deeper-drafted vessels along it. Wusong seemed to function, at present, as an out-of-town car park for the merchant ships.

Li scooted up the steps of the covered carriage and sequestered herself inside. Ace, grinding her teeth, forced herself to get into character and waited for the attention of Tian, her chaperone. At least his was a familiar face; he was one of Ace's six etiquette students, chosen for this mission because he spoke a small amount of English and was trusted by Madam Deng. He came around to hand Ace up the steps.

"Thank you," Ace said. If she had to be posh, she could still be polite, couldn't she? "Never mind our lessons – I reckon you could teach the British a thing or two about good manners, Mr Tian."

Tian bowed from the shoulders and murmured something that the TARDIS translated as, "You honour me, gracious teacher."

'Gracious'? She must be doing something right, if she'd got him that far fooled already. Still. Whatever.

Tian closed the door and went to take a seat up front beside the driver. Ace sat down in the carriage and spent the best part of twenty seconds trying to find a way to arrange her scaffolded skirts such that they did not keep flouncing up in one place when she patted them down in another. After a while she gave up. She looked across to Li.

"You might as well laugh and get it over with," Ace said crossly.

It was testament to how well Li had come to know her in the last five days that she did just that.

~~~

_Wusong Fort_  
_15th April 1844_  
_5:30 pm_

Two and a half hours, it had taken them to get here. And okay, so that was better than a seven hour walk, but they'd covered barely sixteen miles. Two and a half hours would get you all the way to Bristol from Paddington in the nineteen-eighties. 'The age of the train.'

The journey had been very stop-start. Their carriage's driver would allow the horses to trot for a bit, then just as it seemed they'd got going he'd slow the pair down to a walk. It was how things were done, apparently. Ace was pretty sure she could have got out and walked faster, even in this sodding dress. Mind you, she'd felt like that on the train out to Charlton from Charing Cross, sometimes, too.

Heavy grey clouds shrouded the sinking sun as Tian handed Ace down to the cobbled road outside Wusong Fort. They'd had to arrive like this; much as Ace had wanted Li to stay the hell away from the place, ladies of influence did not get their drivers to drop them off in town and then walk the rest of the way. The plan this evening depended on play-acting rather than infiltration by stealth.

"Wish me luck, Renxiang," she murmured up to Li, who remained hidden in the shadows of the carriage.

"Luck, Ace," Li had whispered back. Never more heartfelt, Ace suspected.

Tian hurried over to the fort's gate. The gate itself stood open. A Chinese sentry was idly watching proceedings, though his shoulders had stiffened when he'd noted that this early-evening visitor was, in fact, a white woman. Words were exchanged between Tian and the sentry. A shout went up, carried along by other voices further inside the fort.

Ace stood straight and tried to look imperious. She let her gaze take in the immediate vicinity, feigning disinterest but in truth fitting all she'd learned from Duyi's map into her mental picture of the location. The fort was nestled into an area thick with greenery, here on the banks of the Yangtze estuary. Over to her right, east of the fort and nearer to the confluence of the Yangtze and the Huangpu, she could see ships off the coast at anchor. Two were wooden with furled sails, one was metal and had a chimney: she guessed that steam power was becoming a thing. From the mouth of the Huangpu a barge was emerging, but it didn't bear one of the heavy cargoes she'd noticed in recent days. The vessel's heading did not change as it exited the Huangpu. It seemed to be going north, straight across the wide estuary. A tattered sail had been raised, perhaps because the barge had lost the natural flow of the river to help it along. The bargeman at the tiller, dressed in labourer's drab and the traditional conical hat, looked over to the fort's gates, saw Ace watching and immediately looked away.

She gazed out across the water, trying to work out where this barge was going. In the distance, beyond the ships, rose a land mass: an island. It was located within the expanse of the estuary; Ace could see a blurred, purple-grey-ish line much further to the north where China's coastline resumed. She frowned at the island. It was indistinct in the fading light, but she was quite sure that some of the mistiness around it was the result of smoke being generated rather than a simple issue of cloudy weather.

She'd seen this island before, in her dreams. Since she was quite certain that she was not, in fact, some kind of oracle, this seemed to prove her hypothesis that those dreams had been a genuine connection between herself and the Doctor.

Ace straightened her shoulders and nodded. Now she was certain she was in the right place.

There were three shadowed figures up high on the fort's battlements, observing her. The short stretch of road that linked the fort to the northern edge of Wusong town was empty of other traffic. The town itself had seemed sparsely populated and unwelcoming when they'd driven through. There was a weird, intangible tension about this place. It prickled on her skin. Something was wrong here, Ace decided, and it wasn't only about international trade politics and heavy-handed British imperialism.

Tian returned to her side. "The British merchant lord has been sent for," he said. "I would suggest you do not allow him to dismiss me from your side. I do not like the attitude of these soldiers."

Ace felt the Pavlovian urge to tell the bloke she could sodding well take care of herself, before remembering the role she had to play. She drew a deep breath. Her biggest enemy this evening was going to be her own temper and she needed to guard against that. Everything else besides, Tian was probably spot-on with his assessment; this was not an issue of needless chauvinism.

So she nodded, swallowed her pride and said, "I will take that advice."

Tian did that shoulder bow thing, then went to have a word with the driver. The door to the carriage was closed now, though Ace was sure Li had found herself a sliver of a gap to peek out of. Ace waited. She did her best not to joggle impatiently. She was pretty sure Victorian ladies didn't joggle.

As the seconds ticked by, she considered how important it was that she stay in character this evening. Her natural instincts, long-honed over years of experience, were to appear confident and assured even when she didn't feel that way. She was also hard-wired to meet prejudice and condescension with the outrage and disdain it deserved. Ace therefore knew her most fundamental personality traits to be at odds with Victorian feminine sensibilities.

This was not going to be easy.

_'Act like you're in a Jane Austen novel,'_ Ace told herself.

A moment later she realised this wasn't going to work. She'd never read any bloody Jane Austen.

_'All right, then. Act like you're in a BBC costume drama.'_

Also useless advice. If there'd been a costume drama on the telly back during those distant Perivale years, she would invariably have changed the channel.

_'Fine. Act like you're the one who wrote that stupid etiquette book. Only, you know, less prone to bullshit.'_

Ace rolled her eyes at herself. Then she had to remind herself not to do things like that because it probably wasn't considered demure. And damn it, even this small, unwitnessed slip told her that this evening was likely to end in disaster. She couldn't even stay in character when she wasn't doing anything! What hope did she have?

Perhaps fortunately, she wasn't given any longer to stew in her doubts and insecurities. A tall white man with red hair and formidable side whiskers came striding out through the fort's gate, followed by a Chinese soldier in oddly loose clothing: wide flapping trousers and a tunic with a sort of over-pinny, styled with an insignia that presumably denoted rank or affiliation. The soldier had a shaved head apart from a topknot, and carried a rifle. The white man was wearing a dark frock coat over a forest-green waistcoat and a pleated shirt. Ace couldn't work out whether the Chinese soldier was there as a bodyguard, a deputy, or maybe just as a 'let's pretend we're working together' kind of gesture. Whichever it was, Mr Frock Coat indicated that the soldier hang back while he came out to greet Ace. The soldier did as he was told, though he looked far from impressed.

"Good evening, my lady," the man said carefully. "My sincerest apologies, but I was not advised I should expect civilised company this evening."

He paused at a distance that might have been cautious and might have been respectable, and he waited. Now he'd drawn closer, Ace saw that he was youngish – maybe thirty or so – and had a ruddy complexion, as though he'd just been told a very saucy anecdote. His eyes were pale blue and a bit washed out.

Ah well. Time to pretend. At least she'd managed to rehearse her opening lines.

"Good evening, sir," she replied. "Am I to take it, then, that the letter of introduction my father sent did not arrive?"

"It would appear not," the man said. He took in her dress, straightened his shoulders and snapped his heels together. "Forgive my manners. I am Robert Windham. Apcar and Company. At your service, Miss...?"

Ace took a step forward and half-offered a limp hand, as the stylist had taught her. The soft leather gloves and the pearls around her wrist, on loan from Madam Deng, actually helped with the performance. "My name is Dorothea Nash." Then, cribbing from her book of pointless etiquette, she added, "I must apologise for the nature of this introduction. Rather unseemly."

"Not at all." The man took her hand, bowed over it, then looked up through his eyelashes. "We don't stand on ceremony out here." He stood straight again. "Delighted to meet you, Miss Nash. Rather a novelty, in fact, to find myself in the company of a fair-skinned English rose like yourself!"

Ace forced herself to smile through the horrific wrongness of those words. "You'll be wondering at my arrival," she said. "My father is Mr John Arundel Nash. Perhaps you have encountered the name?"

Windham's shoulders twitched into a sort of parade-attention. "Of course, yes, of course! One of our most reliable and long-standing Englishmen abroad."

Excellent. Just as Madam Deng had said it would, the name of some random British merchant in Shanghai had served as her credentials. Hurdle number one had been jumped. Now all she had to do was reach the next one without falling flat on her face.

Windham added, "How proud you must be! Your father is an invaluable asset to British trade. Especially now."

Ace frowned in confusion. "Um – 'now'?"

"Since our victory. Now that we've shown the locals we mean business!"

"Right. Business," she muttered to herself with a wince. That was certainly one way to describe flooding an entire country with debilitating narcotic and then waging war when said country was less than approving.

Windham was looking perplexed. "I'm, em, I'm sorry, Miss Nash?"

Oops. She needed to watch her colloquialisms, not to mention her not-exactly-Victorian attitudes. "I said, a _bright_ new time for _business_ ," she tried to cover, feigning enthusiasm. "Opportunities await, Mr Windham."

"So they do, Miss Nash." Windham gave a smile. "I was, em, unaware Mr Nash was blessed with a lovely daughter," he said, with an expression that was probably supposed to be charming but looked more like a leer.

Ace hid the grimace and continued with her fake back-story. "I am relatively new to these parts. My father had me join him out here as soon as the Treaty was signed."

"Did he indeed?" Windham blinked hard, several times, in much the way he might have checked the evidence of his own eyes had she grown a second head. He shook himself, cleared his throat and added, "Oh. Em. Forgive my confusion, Miss Nash, but...well, this is hardly the place for a proper young lady."

She swallowed the insult that rose up inside, but could do nothing to prevent her eyes narrowing into a glare. "I don't see why not. The British Quarter is perfectly habitable, and I am of more use to my father here than I was in London."

"Might I ask why?"

She put her shoulders back and felt the bone of her corset press uncomfortably under her arms. Still, confidence was her default and it would work for her here. "I'm fluent in Chinese," she announced.

Windham snorted a laugh. Then he hesitated, seeing that Ace was not laughing at her own joke as well. An awkward pause. "Gracious." Windham's eyebrows rose. "Never made head nor tail of the local gabbling, myself." He coughed delicately then said, "Of course, prior to the Treaty of Nanking it really was rather frowned upon to mangle the local tongue."

"Ah," Ace said, nodding solemnly. "I expect I learned it all during the voyage out here, then."

Windham gave a half-smile, but she couldn't tell whether this was because he appreciated her diplomatic lie or because he simply wanted to humour the young woman who was claiming something preposterous.

"Might I enquire, Miss Nash, as to the purpose of your visit to Wusong?" Windham asked. "I'm a little surprised to see that you are travelling without an escort."

For a moment, Ace was bewildered. Had Tian disappeared, along with the carriage? She looked behind herself, to see Tian standing at a respectful distance, perfectly visible, attentive and reassuring. She turned back. Windham hadn't even followed her gaze. With a surge of anger, she recognised what this was: the invisibility of a non-white face. Manisha had talked about it sometimes. How her mum could stand at a shop counter waiting to be served, and the shopkeeper's eyes would ghost past her, locking on to the person beyond. Racism at its most pernicious.

"Going blind, are you?" she snapped. "'Cause he doesn't _seem_ to have activated his cloaking device."

Windham took a step back, startled, and a look of abject confusion came over him. Ace's flare of temper morphed into panic. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Okay, it was possible she'd slipped out of character there, for a moment.

She coughed as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Forgive me, Mr Windham, but I am protective when my..." Oh, god. She couldn't say 'friends', could she? "My, um, staff are insulted." 'Staff' was better than 'servants', right? Still, Ace cringed at the implicit entitlement. "The fact is that Mr Tian sees very well to my protection."

Windham's eyes widened. "A _Chinaman_ is your escort?"

"You would hardly expect a British woman to travel alone, would you?" she said, because deliberately misunderstanding the comment would serve her better in this instance than whacking him in the chops and telling him to watch his pejoratives. Before the man could answer she tried to move the conversation on, past this trickiness. "Would you allow me perhaps an hour of your time this evening? There are business matters I must address."

Windham looked as if he thought she was speaking Mongolian. (Which, of course, she would have been. Had there been any Mongolians present.) She stood quietly and tried to appear patient.

"It would be churlish of me to deny you," Windham finally said. "Do you wish to stable your carriage and pair?"

Hand over her getaway vehicle to the control of the bad guys? "Thank you, no," she said. "Tian will see to the driver. A moment, please."

She turned away and walked over to Tian. Quietly, she said, "Tell the driver an hour, if you please, Mr Tian. If we are not here when he returns, please ask him to see Miss Li safely back to Madam Deng's house without delay. We will find our own way back, but her safety is paramount."

"As you say, gracious teacher," Tian agreed.

"Oh, and tell the driver to watch his back," she added. "This place is making my hackles rise."

Tian nodded. He went to deliver the instructions, then stood back and watched as the carriage made a tight turn there on the road and clip-clopped off toward Wusong town. He returned to Ace, to stand just behind her and to one side, adopting the deferential position of an attendant.

She reminded herself that all this discomfort was in a good cause. She turned back to Windham and said, "An hour, then, sir."

"It's a tedious drive from Shanghai," Windham said. "A spot of tea, perhaps, Miss Nash?"

"That would be most welcome, Mr Windham," Ace lied.

She had to force herself to take the man's proffered arm.

~~~

The fort had thick stone walls, cloistered with passageways on the inland side. Lean-to buildings of timber-frames lined the stonework. Ladders and elevated walkways ranged above them. On the side that faced the waters of the estuary, the walls were higher and more solid, with alcoves and platforms for cannons and mortars. In two places that Ace could see, the walls had been repaired after damage that presumably had come from the guns of British Navy warships.

Within the large open centre of the fort was a square-shaped building of two storeys with a pitched roof. Windham led Ace inside.

"Your man there is welcome to find a bite in the kitchens," Windham said. "I can have someone show him–"

"Thank you, Mr Windham," Ace interrupted. "My father would never forgive me if he learned that I allowed Tian to leave my side." She shot Windham a sly look. "I don't know how well you know my father, but his displeasure is something to be avoided."

"Oh, of course. Naturally." Windham eyed Tian, then frowned and leaned closer to her. "Does the fellow speak English at all?"

Ace glanced at Tian, who was doing an admirable job of pretending to ignore the discussion.

"Not a word," she lied.

Being inside Windham's receiving room at least allowed Ace the opportunity to take off her gloves, which were not going to be helpful if she needed to access her weaponry at short notice. The wrap she kept loosely around her shoulders, and the bonnet had to stay in place because it was apparently a breach of manners to appear bare-headed in the presence of a gentleman. Windham dismissed his tunic-wearing soldier and immediately called for a young Chinese woman, to whom he issued instructions for tea in slow, loud, patronising English. He dismissed the woman with a wave and gestured Ace to take a seat beside a low table, situated at the other end of the room to a cluttered mahogany desk.

"Just a sec," Ace said. Then added: "Ond." She coughed. "Just a sec _ond_." She went over to the Chinese woman, lowered her head and murmured, "Hello. My name's Dorothy. I apologise for the rudeness of the man you work for."

The Chinese woman's eyes widened, then her chin came up. "I would never make any complaint, Miss," she said in what Ace hoped was her native language. The woman shot a cautious look at her employer.

"Of course you wouldn't," Ace murmured. "Like me, you're a woman in a man's world. I just wanted to acknowledge that the man's a twit." 'Twit' sounded a bit more Victorian than 'twat', didn't it?

"If I may be excused?" the woman said, panic rising in her expression.

"Of course," Ace conceded. "Oh – by the way, where's the toilet?"

The woman relaxed a little, on safer ground. "The latrine is at the eastern end of the estuary wall. It lacks privacy. I would recommend that you allow me to provide a chamber pot in a private room here, Miss."

Any chance for a quick look round was worth pursuing. This would be a good excuse. With Victorian sensibilities firmly in denial that the fair sex might actually possess a functioning bladder, Ace figured she could use this option to gain some solitude _and_ – win-win – to freak Windham the fuck out.

"Perhaps we could do that after tea?" Ace murmured to the young woman. "It's a long ride back to the city."

"As you wish, Miss," the woman said, and made her grateful escape.

Ace turned back to Windham, who had watched with a wary eye but had not interrupted. Ace had deliberately kept her own voice quiet, to disguise the way she spoke in English. Hopefully the young woman's responses had done enough to impress.

"So you _do_ speak the lingo," Windham said, trying to sound mild but looking a touch alarmed.

"I would not have claimed to, otherwise," Ace replied. She sat down on a small sofa, sideways-on to accommodate her skirts. Tian had taken up an unobtrusive position not far from the door. "The Chinese language spoken here is very beautiful and poetic." Okay, she was guessing, but so what?

Windham tossed his head back and said, "Ha! Oh, you're a fine one, Miss Nash! Not sure I've met your like before, and I've seen some things in my time, believe me!" He settled back. There was a hardened glint in his eye. "And may I enquire as to the discussion you just had with Cai?"

"You may enquire," she said, "but you'll forgive me if I am reluctant to go into detail."

"Intriguing," he said.

"Hardly. I would hope that an English gentleman might refrain from embarrassing a lady when it comes to the basic necessities of bodily comfort."

It actually took the fuckwit a few seconds to work it out. His ears went purple and he coughed into his hand. Ace had been congratulating herself on her use of euphemism, but it seemed that she had still been too direct for Windham's sensitivities. Alarmingly, she felt a growing urge to shed her Victorian persona and yell things like, 'Yes, tosspot, women piss too!' Loudly. Just to release some of the tension.

"Oh," he finally said. "Em – do you need to, em...?"

"I'm sure Miss Cai will see to my needs after we've had our tea. Might I ask how well you know my father, Mr Windham?"

The change of subject was deliberate, right when the wanker was off balance. Such a tactic could make him offer information that he might otherwise have been cautious with. Additionally, she wanted to place the onus on him to talk rather than risk tripping herself up again. It occurred to Ace that her years of apprenticeship to the universe's Great Manipulator had not been entirely unproductive.

"I've not yet had the pleasure, alas, not in person," Windham replied. "He was in Chuenpi during the war, I believe?" Ace nodded, though she had no idea. "I know that in the last twelve months your father has been an excellent facilitator of trade within Shanghai. I know he maintains numerous contacts among the local merchants, and is a reliable source of information when it comes to offloading poppy and bringing in the local goods." He hesitated, considering Ace in all her Victorian lady's finery. "I, em, didn't know he had a daughter, nor that she was an... _educated_ woman." Windham's eyebrow twitched enough to demonstrate that he wasn't really on board with the idea of female education, but would set that distaste aside so long as there was money to be made. "I'd be dashed interested to learn why he feels sending that daughter all the way out to Wusong, chaperoned only by a native, is a good idea."

"Obviously my father would have accompanied me, were it not for his gout," Ace said primly. "And believe me, it took some persuasion before he agreed to the trip. If matters in Shanghai were not so close to breaking point, I doubt I would have gained his blessing."

Windham frowned. "Breaking point?"

"Why yes, Mr Windham." She feigned a frown. "It concerns me that this might come as news to you. Most of my father's contacts have been trying to cover things up, but the growing number of incidents has made secrecy impossible."

"What, em, what incidents?"

She took a moment to give him a level look. Victorian lady she might well be (sort of) but that didn't mean she had to be happy when treated like an idiot.

"Forgive me if I seem blunt, Mr Windham," she finally said, "but what do you know of a new type of firearm? A revolver, in appearance, but with a mechanism that renders it much faster to load and fire."

Windham's mouth dropped open.

~~~

Cai led Ace to a private room furnished with settees, chairs and tables. The room was heavy with the lingering odour of cigar smoke. Alas, it did not contain a nice obvious desk with papers to rifle. That left Ace's only information source the young woman who was busy moving a folding screen of silk stretched over a wooden frame into place, so Ace could use the provided chamber pot in relative privacy.

"I will be just outside, Miss Dorothy," Cai said politely, when she'd finished with the screen.

Information sources were much harder to pump when a closed door separated them from you. "If you wouldn't mind," Ace said, "could you give me a hand with this silly great skirt?" She looked at the chamber pot set on the rug at her feet. It seemed a long way down and very small: not the type you could squat upon. Fortunately, this was not the first time Ace had been forced to navigate Victorian bathroom-business. "We'll try this standing up, I think."

Cai came around to the business-side of the silk screen. She eyed Ace's Victorian flounce and then shrugged, accepting that this clothing was a ridiculous thing to navigate when a girl simply wanted to pee. She followed Ace's gesture and lifted up the skirts and their crinoline cage at one side while Ace herself raised them at the other. 

She bent down and picked the pot up. She identified a chair of convenient height and shuffled over. Trapping her skirts with her arm, Ace managed to free her other hand to deal with the knee-length bloomers her stylist had refused to allow her to forgo. Yes, they were the split-crotch deal that was supposed to make this whole process easier, but Ace was a twentieth century woman; she hoped Cai didn't get too observant about the white cotton Marks and Spencers briefs that she wore underneath them. A glance over her shoulder informed her that Cai was studiously looking at the back wall of the room rather than her companion's undergarments.

The bloomers and knickers were pushed to the side. Ace hoisted a leg up on the chair and squatted slightly, moving the pot into position. Truth be told, she definitely needed to empty her bladder, but there was something unpleasant about knowing some poor bastard would be expected to deal with your leavings. She was also quite sure that Victorian ladies didn't offer to clean up their own messes.

The silence that followed was awkward. Ace coughed and said, "So are you from Wusong, then, Miss Cai?"

Cai hesitated, then she said, "I am, Miss Dorothy."

Ace tried to relax enough to relieve herself, but she couldn't quite get there. "Does your dad work here at the fort too, then?"

"He does not," Cai said, a little stiffly. A pause, then: "My mother does. She cooks."

Ace tutted loudly. "Always the blummin' domestic work for us, innit?"

"It is where our talents lie," Cai replied.

"Not necessarily. My other half, he's a much better cook than I could ever be. Me, I can burn salad."

A pause. Then Cai said, "May I ask, Miss Dorothy – how is it you have learned to speak our language?"

"Don't meet too many Brits who've bothered their arse to try, eh?" Ace said cheerfully. "Well, truth is, I got a lot of help from a very good friend."

"You speak very...naturally."

"Thank you." The back and forth had served its purpose and Ace grimaced as her bladder deigned to let go. "So is Mr Windham always that full of himself or is he just showing off for a visitor?"

"Mr Windham is generally quite fair," Cai said.

"Still, can't be easy," Ace went on. "I mean, I'm glad your mum's here with you but there can't be that many women at the fort. I hope Mr Windham makes sure you get the respect you deserve." She glanced at Cai. "You know. From the blokes."

"Mr Windham does not concern himself with the general conduct of the soldiers here," Cai told her.

"Ah. Someone must be in charge of them, though? Keep them in line?"

"Why does this interest you, Miss?"

Cai was nothing if not sharp, Ace had to acknowledge. "Told you before," she said. "Woman in a man's world. We all get abused by men who think they have the right. Especially during times of conflict."

"It is the way of the world."

Ace wondered how long it would be before the Suffragettes became a thing – another fifty years or so? "Not forever. Things can change."

"Perhaps." For a moment, Cai looked pensive. Then she sighed. "But we live now, not in some changed future."

"Then for now we have to rely on those men who are enlightened enough to know how to behave. Those who'll call out the ones who don't."

"Such men are rare," Cai said.

"What about your dad?"

"My father is on Changxing Island," Cai said. "He cannot help."

Ace blinked. "Is that the island the barges go to when they come from the river?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Gingerly, she manoeuvred the chamber pot out from between her legs and set it down on the nearest flat surface. "So what does he do over there?"

"I don't know." Cai gave what seemed to be an involuntary shiver.

"Not a good place?" Ace asked. Perhaps, then, the intangible sense of wrongness was something others could feel, not just the time-travellers among them.

"The island has a reputation," Cai admitted. "A bad one. Especially recently. Boats go missing nearby. It seems to have its own weather. Bad men come and go. It is a place to be avoided."

"Sounds scary," Ace agreed. Then, fishing: "Sounds like the kind of thing the men in charge of this fort ought to sort out, actually."

"Why would they? They are part of it." Cai sighed. "Most of the men from Wusong town were offered jobs there after the war. It was the kind of offer you could not refuse." A pause. "I have not seen my father in more than a year."

"That sounds tough," Ace said, knowing what it was like to have a father disappear on you. She considered her position. "Okay, might be a weird thing to ask, but has toilet roll been invented yet?"

"Excuse me?"

"Something to clean up with?" She winced. "Talk about conversations you never figured you'd need to have."

"Oh," Cai said. "The British men use pages from newspapers."

"Sounds...inky."

"I do not understand this myself."

"What do you use?"

Cai coughed. "There is a salt-water bucket near the latrine."

Ace sighed. "Note to self: packet of tissues for the rucksack, and next time do _not_ leave it at the side of some Shanghai canal."

She moved her undies back into place and stood straight. Cai let her skirts fall then spent a moment straightening the hang of the fabric. It occurred to Ace that if she was trapped in this time and place for much more than another week then she was going to have to navigate menstruation in a city that did not have sit-down toilets, tampons or bog-roll. Fun times.

"So," Ace said, aware that she was running out of time for this particular conversation. "Four days ago a tall blue box was brought here on a cart from Shanghai. It belongs to a friend of mine. I'd be very glad to know what happened to it." She'd asked Windham, of course, but he'd pretended he didn't know what she was talking about. He'd done so rather badly. "Is that something you could help with?"

Cai blinked at her. Hesitant, nervous.

Ace sighed. "Nothing you say to me will go any further," she added. "Promise – I'd never make trouble for you. But I really, _really_ need some help here."

Cai nodded slowly. "It was taken across to the island. Master Zhu himself came to collect it."

"Zhu Zhixin?" Ace said, sensing the strands of her investigation come together. "Nasty piece of work?"

Cai turned away. "As you say," she whispered.

Ace felt sorry about the direction of their discussion, but there was information she needed. "Yeah. Well, for the record? I know about what happened," she said. "With Li Renxiang and her boyfriend? It was wrong. Just plain wrong."

Cai nodded curtly. "It was."

Ace decided to risk pushing a bit further. "Is the baby still alive? Do you know?"

"Master Zhu..." Cai screwed up her features in frustrated distress and shook her head.

"I promise you, no one will ever know you spoke of this," Ace said. "How could they? I'm a Brit. Everyone knows we never bother learning other people's languages."

"How do _you_ know of this?" Cai demanded, turning back around to face her.

Because, of course, Li Renxiang was supposed to be long dead. Ace smiled grimly. She and Li had prepared a lie, just in case the question arose. "My father is a merchant. Quite an important one. He has contacts among local businessmen in Shanghai. One of them is very upset about the way a young man named Yang Junjie was summarily executed on the orders of Zhu Zhixin. Right after the war, this was."

Cai bought it, because she nodded. "It brought shame on those who witnessed it." She shook her head. "Why do you care about this, Miss?"

Ace didn't think the answer, 'Er – because I'm not a grade A bastard?' would cut it here. So she lifted her chin and said, "My father's associate – he wants to see justice served. And my father, well, he wants his associate to owe him a favour."

Cai nodded. "I understand. But I asked about why _you_ care."

Sharp as a pin. Ace couldn't help but admire that. She cocked a brow at Cai. "Basically, I don't like the way men get to treat women. Does that make me weird?"

There was another long pause. Ace wondered whether she'd pushed too far. Still, there came a time when approaching a conversation tentatively was too much like hard work.

Cai seemed to come to a decision. She said, "On the Baoshan road out of Wusong town there is a house. It is on the right hand side, perhaps half a mile before Baoshan wharf, built from brick and tile around a courtyard. Better than most around it. The farmer who owns it did very well when he sold land to the British. He is indebted to Master Zhu for arranging this. His wife...his wife took care of the baby when it was returned to the fort last summer. She had not long lost a child of her own."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

"Does Zhu still show any interest in the baby?"

"He does not. He was angry when his wife left. Furious when he discovered she had died. He beat a man to death – a wagon driver." She shivered with the memory. "He did it right by the main gate. Dozens witnessed it."

Ace nodded. She wasn't going to lose sleep over the murder of a duplicitous wagon driver who'd done his best to kill Li. "Is that why Zhu was moved to the island?"

"I believe so. We rarely see him here. It was a surprise when he came for your friend's blue box."

Excellent. With Zhu tucked away on the island, they probably had a clear run on the farmhouse. Ace closed her eyes. The TARDIS was still too far away, but she was now one step closer to fixing things. The plan formed up in her head: get the baby before anyone figured out that Ace was interested in her; get Li and her daughter back to the safety of Madam Deng's; get back here and find a way across to the island.

"Thank you, Miss Cai," Ace said with quiet sincerity.

"I do not know if I've done the right thing, speaking to you."

"You totally and one hundred per cent have. But I get that you can't take my word." Ace straightened up, looked around, gathered her thoughts. "Right then. If Windham asks if we talked, I'd suggest you tell him I was interested in the barges going over to the island. He already knows I've been asking about that. Just tell him you couldn't help me." A wicked thought occurred. "Oh, and tell him...tell him I asked whether he was married. Ha! That'll distract him."

"Why your interest in Changxing Island, Miss?" Cai asked.

Ace shook her head ruefully. "Your employer is a terrible liar. He _claims_ he doesn't know about the guns being shipped into the city from Wusong, and he _claims_ to know little about the barges going to and from the island, right under the noses of the British merchant ships. But he let slip that the boats heading across there sometimes carry large quantities of limestone."

"Limestone?"

"You put it in blast furnaces," Ace said. She could remember, quite vividly, a diagram drawn in her school exercise book during a lesson where the copious use of the word 'slag' had caused much prepubescent amusement. "You use it to turn iron ore into iron. If you want steel, first you need iron, right? Especially if you want to produce, I dunno, cartridge-loading revolvers?"

Cai looked pained. "I don't understand."

Ace shook her head, mainly at herself. Without the Doctor at her side, she was starting to match his tics: like using a random uninformed person as a sounding board.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Point is, I need to put right some wrongs, and only one of them is about a stolen baby on the Baoshan road." She tried a smile. "Thank you for your help, Miss Cai. Now. Where the hell can I wash my hands?"

~~~


	5. Chapter 5

_Wusong, China_  
_15th April 1844_  
_6:45 pm_

They were ten minutes out from the fort and Ace was still congratulating herself on a clean getaway when the carriage rattled to an unexpected stop. There was a sway in the suspension as someone jumped down from the driving bench, then the door was pulled open. Tian hopped up to the first step and leaned into the carriage.

"Problem?" Ace asked.

"I apologise," he said. "I should have noticed sooner. We are being followed."

Ace narrowed her eyes. "How many?"

"Two soldiers on foot, hanging back, watching from a distance."

Tian had probably done well to notice their tail at all. In the time Ace had been inside the fort, the sun had set. Wusong town had no street-lighting, nor did the stretches of road between settlements. The evening darkness was murky beyond the hazy limit of the carriage's own lanterns.

"Can you see if they're armed?" she prompted.

"They carry rifles, teacher."

"Well that's not good." Ace pinched her lips between her teeth as she thought. "Okay. Are we still on the road to Shanghai?"

"No." Tian looked rueful. "That was when I caught sight of them. They drew closer when we made the turn toward Baoshan."

"Right. So they already know we aren't going the way we should be going."

Tian nodded, then leaned back to look cautiously behind the carriage.

Ace sighed. "All right. No point pretending we got lost. Keep going. If it looks like we're going to be challenged then I'll see if I can wing it."

Li said, "We could try to find a place I can jump out without being seen. They will follow the carriage. I can go to the house on my own."

"And leave you to rescue your daughter without back-up? Bollocks to that!" Ace looked down at her dress. "Good idea, though, using the carriage as the decoy. I just can't be sneaky in this stupid frock." She berated herself for failing to prepare a change of more practical clothing. "We'll brazen it out for now. Most likely the men following were tasked with making sure we go straight home. When they know we haven't, they'll go back and report. Get further orders."

Tian nodded and closed the door. A moment later the carriage resumed its journey.

Li said, "Ace, I am frightened."

"Don't be," Ace reassured her. She patted her stun-gun in its pouch at her waist. "Even if it comes to a fight, you and I can take out two soldiers."

"Not about that." Li drew a deep, tremulous breath. There was a shine in her eyes. "My daughter. She won't know me. This home she has, the woman who has cared for her – it's all she has known. How can I take her away from it?" A sniff. "She'll be scared; she will not want me. She will cry. She will give us away!"

Ace smiled sadly. "Probably will. Thing about one year olds? It's all me-me-me. Am I warm, am I fed, am I comfy? Never mind the bigger picture. They're selfish little gits. Almost like they've got a lot of growing up to do."

Li managed a watery smile.

"On the other hand – another thing about your average one year old?" Ace went on. "Couple of weeks from now, when little Wenling is used to your voice and your scent and your arms? Bet you any money she won't be thinking about the place she used to live. She'll be warm and fed and comfy, and – though she won't know it – she'll actually be where she should be. So. Win-win."

"Maybe," Li whispered. She didn't look convinced, though.

"Seriously. Think about it. What's _your_ earliest memory?"

A pause, as Li considered. "Jumping in the lake to chase a silver fish. From the little wooden jetty. The sun was hot and the water was so clear. When I came up for air, my father was screaming and splashing towards me. He thought I'd fallen, that I would drown." Li smiled with the memory. "I think I was three years old."

"There you go, then. Wenling isn't going to remember any of this. The job today is to reunite you and get you both safely away. She'll cry 'cause she's a baby. But she will not cry because she doesn't want to _be_ with you."

A pause, then Li nodded. "I'm glad you're here. I need this wisdom."

The carriage swayed. Li looked out of the sliver of gap between the edge of the window and the fabric that covered it.

Ace wondered when the hell it was that she'd become wise.

~~~

When the carriage next came to a halt, Ace rolled her shoulders, loosened the pouch containing her stun-gun and then waited for the door to crack open.

Tian reappeared; he looked drawn and tense. "Forgive me, teacher, but I had an idea. I told the driver to go straight past the house. I remembered the blacksmith further along, near Baoshan wharf."

"A blacksmith?" Ace considered. "You know what? That's brilliant. Top of the class, Mr Tian!"

"Top...?"

"Er – gold star? A-plus?" Ace shook her head. "Never mind."

"I don't understand," said Li, her eyes darting between the two of them.

"Mr Tian has given us an excuse to be here. One that doesn't involve rescuing kidnapped babies."

Tian dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"But why Baoshan? There are two blacksmiths in Wusong town," Li said.

Ace glanced at Tian, who was already shaking his head in disagreement. "Bet you there aren't," she said. "That place was a ghost town. All the men have been herded on to Changxing Island, and it's going to take a while before people get enlightened enough to realise women are perfectly capable of hitting things with hammers." Ace grinned at her friends. Tian blinked at her. "Sorry. Don't mind me. Um – have we decided why we need a blacksmith?"

"A wheel on the cart is unsteady."

"Actually unsteady or pretend-unsteady?"

"Pretend. But it will take time to examine."

"Excellent. So while the driver and blacksmith discuss this made-up problem, maybe you can get a bead on our tail?"

Tian said, "Teacher?"

"Ugh. Come on, old girl, help me out here," Ace muttered to the distant TARDIS. Then to Tian she said, "We need to know where the two soldiers are."

Tian nodded curtly and withdrew.

"Right then," Ace said to Li. "When I get out of this carriage I'm going to make a song and a dance and a right old faff about it. Make sure everyone's eyes are on me. Our sneaky soldier escort thinks I'm the only person inside here. Let's keep it that way. Don't get out unless you can do so unseen, and once you're out, stay hidden."

Li smiled, her earlier anxiety replaced by a glimmer of steel. "That's a relief. I thought you were going to ask me to stay here."

"I prefer working in a partnership," Ace said, trying to sound flippant. "Also, you're better at hand-to-hand than me." A thought struck her and she smirked. "You know, I _thought_ it was about time someone else was the Ace-up-the-sleeve!"

"I don't understand."

"Yeah, well, that's 'cause I'm on edge and I keep slipping into language that doesn't translate. Sorry. Point is, stay down, stay hidden. Before we head to the house to get Wenling I want these soldiers either on their way back to the fort to say 'false alarm, boss' or I want them unconscious."

Li nodded. "I will keep watch, and help if needed."

Ace scowled at her skirts. "Should have packed my trousers."

A few minutes passed. Voices spoke around the carriage, but not loudly enough to convey the conversation to Ace. She sat waiting, coiled for action. The bonnet fastened under her chin was making her feel restricted so she untied it irritably and set it aside on the bench. She then stripped off her gloves and secreted Madam Deng's pearls inside one of them; the gloves were rolled up and stowed in one of her waist-pouches.

The carriage gave a lurch and trundled along to another position. Voices again, and then a ring of hammer on metal that sent a judder through the carriage's frame.

The door opened and Tian leaned inside. "The smith will look at the wheel. We will need to uncouple the horses."

"Okay. Fine. I'm getting out, then."

"It would be for the best, teacher. The blacksmith's wife spoke of preparing a place for you to wait." Tian looked over at Li. "The other side of the carriage is now close to the wall of the courtyard and in shadow."

Li nodded. "I'll get out when Miss Ace is singing and dancing."

Tian looked confused.

Ace snorted. "Language is fun, isn't it?" she said. "Any sign of our soldiers?"

"They know we have seen them. They wait and watch from the road."

"Excellent. I'll go and have a word, then."

Tian winced at the idea. "I do not believe these are men who understand respect for others."

Ace did her best to reclaim her Victorian persona. "Then I shall try to explain the concept." She nodded to herself. "Mr Tian, I need you to keep the blacksmith and his wife busy. We don't want them panicking if I get into an altercation with two armed soldiers."

Tian nodded hesitant understanding. After a pause, he said, "My teacher, you are an odd and interesting woman. I have much to learn about British culture."

"Probably. But I really wouldn't base your learning on me. I'm kind of an anomaly." Ace gave him a grin. "Let's go, then! One clear run on a stolen little girl, coming up. Places, everyone."

~~~

The open gate providing access from the road to the blacksmith's buildings was lit by a paraffin lantern that hung from a pole. The light was meagre, but better than nothing.

"Good evening," Ace said to the two glowering soldiers. They both wore the loose uniform she'd seen on Robert Windham's escort at the fort, with the over-tunic and its insignia. Their rifles were held over their shoulders, casually rather than in a formal way, and their eyes took her in with a mixture of surprise and disdain.

There was a pause. They just looked at her.

"Come along, now," she said. "You can manage a 'good evening', can't you?"

"You speak our language," said one of the soldiers: the one with a shrapnel scar on the left side of his jaw. He didn't sound impressed.

"Did Mr Windham not advise you of this?" Ace asked. "I am assuming he sent you along to ensure our safe journey back to Shanghai."

Another pause. Ace waited, wearing what she hoped was an expression of naive entitlement.

"Yes," shrapnel-scar said after an amused glance with his colleague. "Yes, your safety is important to Mr Windham."

"Of course it is," Ace dismissed. "Mr Windham is a gentleman. Still, as you can see, we are likely to be here a while. Our driver did not want to undertake the homeward journey without repairing the wheel." She lifted her chin and tried to look down her nose. "I have to say, gentlemen, that the state of your roads leaves something to be desired."

She glared at the soldiers, hoping she was nailing the imperious privilege that British people probably chucked about when stomping around in other people's countries. Shrapnel-scar's mate, an older soldier with threads of grey in his topknot, tightened his grip on his rifle and looked like a man on the verge of losing his temper. Seeing this, she could only assume that she'd been successful.

Fortunately, by this time she'd been able to assess the threat-level. In her favour: the two soldiers did not anticipate any physical trouble from her and were more intent on making sure her male companions did not come any closer, given the watchful eye they were keeping on the short stretch of path between the blacksmith's buildings and the road. On the other hand: she could take down one soldier with a blast from her stun-gun, but possibly not both before the other one levelled his loaded rifle at her. Walking away before she initiated a confrontation would define enough distance to make a retaliatory shot more difficult for the remaining soldier, but it would also make aiming her stun-gun harder too.

"If you are not happy with the state of our roads, perhaps you should return to your own country," the older soldier bit.

"Perhaps. It would, however, be more charitable to help you build decent roads."

"We do not need your help!"

Ace hated herself as she looked pointedly back along the rutted dirt track towards Wusong. "Clearly you do," she said. "Now, run along back to the fort and tell Mr Windham that Miss Nash is in good hands. I do not need an escort, and I am offended by the notion that Mr Windham believes otherwise."

Shrapnel-scar sneered. "We don't take orders from Windham."

Grey-hair nudged him forcefully; she didn't need the TARDIS to translate _that_ as 'shut the fuck up, moron'. Ace processed the information – someone else at the fort had sent these two to keep an eye on her – just as she saw a shadow hop over a low roadside wall behind the soldiers. She was accomplished enough not to let her gaze linger on Li's arrival, and instead turned to the greying soldier who seemed to be the senior man present.

It was high time to remove this duo from their path.

"Indeed, is that so, sir?" Ace said to the soldier. "Frankly, I do not care who ordered you to see to my safety. Your presence is not required. You can go back to the fort right now and report that we visited a blacksmith before we went home. Or you can wait here for an hour and then do the same."

"We will wait," the older soldier said crisply.

Ace gave a heavy sigh, even as she noticed that Li had positioned herself to take out the younger and more muscular-looking soldier. She glanced over her shoulder to see Tian, sharply silhouetted beneath another lantern at the entrance to the blacksmith's courtyard, watching them from a distance. "You are making my staff nervous, gentlemen," she said. "Waving guns around as though we are still at war. Leave. Now."

"We. Will. Wait," the soldier repeated with a snarl, and he took his rifle from his shoulder and cradled it in his arms, not quite aiming it at her but making the threat obvious. He added, "Woman," with a look of disgust, as though the word was intended as the worst kind of insult.

Ace shook her head in mock-exasperation. "Fine. If you won't answer to reason then let's try another method of encouragement." She reached for the pouch sewn into the ruffles at her waist. "How much money are we talking, gentlemen? What's the going rate for following a clear and concise order?" She retrieved her furled stun-gun; the soldier's eyes looked at the casing with interest and a touch of avarice. "Three? Two?" She risked a glance at the shadowy Li-shape, then said, "One?" and pressed her thumb to the casing. The stun-gun opened out with a tiny click and whine. She took down the older soldier with a point-blank burst of energy, just as Li kicked the other soldier in the back of the leg somewhere and then chopped him at the neck as he yelped and sank down to his knees.

The two men were out cold. For a moment, Ace and Li looked down at the crumpled soldiers.

"Smash the patriarchy," Ace said with quiet satisfaction.

"Another day, perhaps. For now we should hide the bodies," Li suggested.

"I'll take care of it," Tian said, making Ace jump as he hurried to meet them. "The house is back that way." He pointed along the road. "It is not far. The driver has convinced the smith that the wheel is buckled and must be replaced. It will take less than an hour. If we have not returned here by the time it is done, the driver will wait for us, closer to the house."

"You're not staying with him?" Ace asked, concerned that their ride might yet scarper.

"I think you need me with you," Tian replied.

She wanted to argue, but Li said, "Mr Tian is right. You are not dressed for anything covert, therefore you have to be the distraction. A British lady would not travel without an escort. I cannot help with that role."

"Why not? 'Cause you're a woman?"

"Because I need to do the sneaking. Also, the owners of the house might recognise me. They have a connection with my enemy, after all."

"Ah."

"I will be your escort, teacher," Tian said. "If we can keep the owners occupied, Miss Li will have her chance to retrieve her daughter."

Ace nodded. She should have thought of all this herself. "It's a plan, team."

"Go," Tian said. "I will catch up when I have hidden the soldiers."

"What about the blacksmith? Won't he wonder where we've all gone?"

"I have told him that while the carriage is repaired we will return to the fort with the soldiers who were assigned to your protection. You intend to wait there with the British merchant."

"Right," Ace said. "That works. Good." She glanced at Li. "Let's go and get your little girl, eh?"

~~~

The house comprised a single storey. It was brick-built and occupied a generous plot of land. Livestock in nearby pens watched as Ace and Tian approached down the path. She was doing her best to hold the hems of her skirts away from the ground, though she suspected that Madam Deng would be slapping her with a serious dry-cleaning bill once they got back to town. Or whatever the mid-nineteenth-century equivalent might be.

Ace did her best not to look out for Li, who had touched her arm and then ducked out of sight about thirty seconds ago.

"A household like this," she said to Tian. "Can you estimate how many people?"

Tian shrugged. "Landowner and his wife. Any surviving parents." He took in the frontage of the building. "There is wealth here. Maybe some domestic servants, a nurse for the infant. And there'll likely be farmhands to assist with the animals."

"At least five, most likely more," Ace decided. "Too many for 'guns blazing'. Right. I'd rather do this without a confrontation anyway."

"As you say, teacher."

"Here's the story, then. Our carriage suffered damage just down the road," she said. "Our driver has taken it to the blacksmith. I require a place to wait until the work is complete and I can be taken back to Shanghai. This being the best house in the area, naturally it was an obvious choice."

"Understood."

"I'm going to pretend that my understanding of your language is limited. You should do most of the talking."

"Very well."

"If you find some way to keep them entertained, go for it. If you need to mock me, complain about your stupid British employer, anything like that, then feel free. Just so long as they're focused on you rather than whatever Miss Li is up to."

Tian looked uncomfortable, but he nodded.

"This hospitality we're asking for – I suppose I should pretend it's just, you know, simply my due. Right?"

"Of course."

"Right." Ace sighed hard. "Apologies, then. In advance. I'm not actually that presumptuous."

"From what Miss Cai told you at the fort," Tian said, "it would seem this family has done very well out of the British presence at Wusong. They should be honoured by your visit."

"Reckon? I'd be pretty miffed if some stranger turned up and demanded to use my house as a waiting room." She wrinkled her nose as a waft of nearby manure assaulted her nostrils, and checked the hem of her skirts again. "Still, even if they turn us away, maybe we can make enough of a fuss that Li gets her chance."

They fell quiet as they approached the house's stone steps. Tian skipped ahead, offered a solicitous arm that Ace felt bound to accept, then he rang a small bell mounted on the bricks next to the door.

A man answered, dressed smartly in tailored silk trousers and tunic. Ace had no idea whether this was the owner or his butler. Actually, she had no idea whether the concept of butlers existed in China.

"Yes?" the man said curtly.

"Good evening, honoured sir," Tian said with a half-bow. "We seek assistance. My employer, a British lady of some standing, requires a safe and comfortable place to wait for her carriage to be repaired."

The man looked past Tian and gave her the once-over. Ace raised her chin, looked between the two of them, then frowned. "Tian?"

"Moment, please, my lady," he said to her. She was pretty sure he'd said it in English, though keeping track of such things was more or less impossible. To the man, he added, "My employer has been visiting the British merchant lord at Wusong Fort. We were unable to return home when we lost a wheel. We will of course pay for any service your household can render."

The man gave her another look. A female voice spoke behind him. He turned and over his shoulder said, "Go and make some tea, Chuntao. We have guests." The door was opened more widely and he gestured them inside. Tian stepped aside to allow Ace to go first.

She met the man's eyes and said, in as awkward a manner as she could, "Good evening."

The man arched a brow and looked past her at Tian.

Tian said, "My employer, Miss Nash, is learning a few phrases of our language. She believes this respectful, since, in her words, she is 'the visitor' here."

The man nodded. "Respectful." He did not sound convinced.

"It is what she believes." Tian waited for the man to close the door, then he said, "I am Tian, manservant to Miss Nash. May I ask your name, sir?"

"Lui," the man said curtly. "I serve the honoured Zhang family. Please excuse me while I inform my master and mistress of their guest." Lui left them in the small room that Ace figured was basically the hallway.

Ace murmured, "Okay, then. So far, so good."

Tian looked irritated. "This is not how one should receive guests."

"It isn't?"

"Guests should not be left standing and waiting. Is this not the practice in British households, teacher?"

"I s'pose if you live in a house with a dozen reception rooms, you've got plenty of options to sit your visitors down, nice and comfy, before you go and announce them to the lord of the manor. I'm more used to smaller households, where you either let your visitor in and offer to get the kettle on, or you tell them to sod off or you're calling the police."

"Police?"

"Law enforcement."

"Oh, the militia."

"Yup."

"In Britain you summon the militia when someone requests hospitality?"

"Depends on the context, I suppose," Ace mused. "But the vast majority of people from my country don't actually have servants to answer the door."

Tian blinked, then shrugged and nodded his understanding. Perhaps he was one of those people who looked at pictures of British landmarks and figured everyone in the country had a castle each. Ace wondered what he'd have made of her mum's two-up two-down terrace in Perivale.

Then Lui returned and beckoned them through an internal door, and it was game-on.

~~~

Mr and Mrs Zhang were polite and...well, not _un_ welcoming, in Ace's view. Not warm, really, but not in any way brusque or impatient. Tian was an absolute star, carrying on a conversation as loudly as he could manage without heading for 'I sound like a loony' territory. He paused regularly to convey the meaning of the conversation to Ace in what was probably quite serviceable English, to eke out the time and keep the noise levels up. Lui served tea and then took up a position beside the entrance to the hall. At least three of the house's residents were thus accounted for while, deeper within the property, Li searched out her daughter. Ace racked her brains for anything more she could do to help her friend.

She realised that she could command the attention of at least one more resident when the young woman, Chuntao, brought a fresh kettle of boiled water into the room, handed it off to Lui and then made her unobtrusive exit. Ace was reminded that what had worked for her once would probably work again.

"Tian," she said, interrupting the conversation without apology as she suspected British posh gits would do. When he looked to her, she tilted her head in a gesture of 'come over here'. He moved to her side. In a much lower voice she said, "We need more of a distraction. Tell them I need a female assistant to show me the facilities."

Tian hesitated, processing the comment, then he nodded sharply. He turned back to the couple.

"Forgive me, honoured hosts," he said. "If you would be so kind as to assist my employer – perhaps to show her where she can...refresh herself?"

The Zhangs looked genuinely confused for a moment before Lui murmured that he would fetch Chuntao and left the room. Mrs Zhang rolled her eyes in an 'oh, I see!' kind of way and stood up. She smiled at Ace, quite kindly, and used arm gestures that encouraged her to follow.

Mrs Zhang handed her off to Chuntao and then smiled and nodded and half-bowed before returning to the reception room. Chuntao, looking mildly overwhelmed at being in charge of taking a British woman to the bog, offered a bow of her own and then walked off down a narrow passageway further into the house.

Ace knew she needed to make some noise, just in case Li was lurking. She could not speak with any fluency, however, since she was playing the stupid-foreigner card.

"This...lovely home," she said to Chuntao.

Chuntao turned, startled, and gave her a look.

"I say right?" Ace tried. "This lovely home?"

Chuntao nodded vigorously and murmured, "Yes, I understand. Thank you, lady. I will tell my mistress you were pleased."

They stopped at a doorway. Chuntao opened it and Ace followed her through to find herself in a covered terrace, the evening air cool against her face. Chuntao walked across the terrace towards another wing of the building. In the distance, down a lit pathway, was what seemed to be a low-built shed or outbuilding: possibly where any farmhands resided.

"This is...typical?" Ace asked, trying to be subtle in the way she was glancing around, looking out for Li's spirit-of-the-night shadow.

"My lady?" Chuntao asked.

"This house – typical? For Chinese people?" It occurred to Ace that feigning a difficulty in language when technically you didn't have one was much trickier than it should be. "I see not many. Chinese homes. None in British Quarter."

Chuntao nodded in understanding. "This house is finer than most in the area," she said. "But in style it is quite typical." Ace pretended that she didn't understand, just to keep the conversation going. Chuntao smiled apologetically and said, slightly more loudly, "Yes. Is typical."

For some reason it was reassuring that Brits weren't the only people on the planet who thought that volume could compensate for a language barrier.

Chuntao led her to another door and they re-entered the house, this time into a tiled section clearly devoted to ablutions. The maid gestured to the latrine cubicle, the bucket of flush water and a handy sponge-on-a-stick in salt water with something of a flourish.

"Thank you," Ace said. "And...hands?" At Chuntao's puzzled frown, Ace made washing gestures. Chuntao nodded understanding and indicated an alcove with a counter, a basin and a pitcher of water. There was even soap. "Thank you, Miss Chuntao," Ace said. It seemed only fair to be polite, since she was in the middle of a deception that would hopefully cost this household a baby girl who was probably doted upon.

Chuntao withdrew. Ace arched a brow at the squat toilet and decided it was as well she'd already relieved herself that evening, since navigating such a thing in these skirts would be precarious. Still, she wanted to continue to hold Chuntao's attention, even while Tian maintained the attention of Lui and the Zhangs. She therefore began to hum, as enthusiastically as she could. For some reason the only tune that came to mind was 'Kung-Fu Fighting', which gave her a moment's pause as she tried to work out whether her brain was being casually racist before she simply gave in to the catchiness of the song and the chance to make some noise. Chuntao would hopefully assume she had uptight British hang-ups about toilet noises.

A couple of minutes passed. Ace hid as close to the toilet as she dared, in case Chuntao came back in. The cool evening air coming through from outside was humid and carried the faint hint of salt from the estuary behind the Zhang's home and land. Ace hummed, hearing Carl Douglas's voice in her head, trying to figure out what a sensible amount of time for toilet business might be.

Outside, Chuntao said, "Hey – who are you?"

Ace stopped humming and whispered an expletive, already reaching for her stun-gun as she moved towards the door. Just as she stepped outside, Chuntao followed her question up with a louder:

"Help! Kidnap!"

Across the terrace, in the light spilling from mounted lanterns, Ace saw Chuntao making a dash for the side door opposite. She unfurled her stunner and shot the woman in the back before casting around to see where Li might be. Li stood in shadow, clutching a bundle to her chest, looking almost paralysed with fear. The bundle was making choked sounds of annoyance, but thankfully nothing that constituted distress.

The two of them waited, breath bated, listening intently to see whether Chuntao had managed to raise the alarm. All remained quiet.

"Go. Swing around to the road," Ace told Li, once she was convinced they'd got away with it. "Find a hiding place. The carriage shouldn't be long."

Li drew a deep breath, glanced at the unconscious heap of maid on the paved terrace floor, then nodded and moved away. Ace sighed and went to grab poor Chuntao under the arms.

"Sorry," she muttered as she dragged the thankfully petite young woman into the ablutions room. "But needs must, and the little one isn't yours to keep."

It was time to get back to Tian and somehow fashion an exit.

~~~

Tian walked along the path with her. He was fighting the urge to break into a run.

"Slowly," Ace murmured. "Relax."

Up ahead, the carriage driver – who, rather fortuitously, had knocked at the door to the Zhang residence only a minute or so after Ace's return from her bathroom break – hastened back to the waiting carriage. Absurdly, Ace found herself wondering how you parked horses. Maybe some kind of little hoof-lock, like the brakes on pushchairs?

"Did you see Miss Li?" Tian whispered.

"Yeah. She's got the baby."

"And Miss Chuntao?"

"Had to put her out. She's unhurt though." Ace sighed. "I feel rotten about it."

She looked over her shoulder. Mr and Mrs Zhang stood in the doorway to their home, the very model of congenial hosts seeing their unexpected visitors safely to their waiting carriage. She tried a cheery wave which, after a moment of hesitation, the Zhangs returned.

Ace faced forward and kept walking. "That's right," she muttered under her breath. "We're all friends here. Don't mind us – just taking your stolen baby back to her mum."

As they reached the Baoshan road, Ace looked around. Li had more sense than to come dashing up to them. With any luck she'd be waiting further down the road, or perhaps she'd already used the carriage itself as cover to enter the vehicle from the other side.

The driver hopped up to the front bench and took up his reins. Tian skipped ahead and used the carriage step to reach for the handle of the door, which he swung open before stepping back down. Ace allowed herself to take the hand he offered as she made to climb inside.

Halfway up she froze.

Within the carriage, a tearful, terrified Li sat next to an older man with hatred in his eyes. Two other men sat on the opposite bench, one of them holding a bundle of unhappy, hiccupping baby. The man beside Li held a revolver to Li's head.

"Who the fuck are you?" Ace demanded.

The man's eyes narrowed and he sneered at her. "Who are _you_? And what are you doing with my wife and daughter?"

Li cringed away from him. The man used his free hand to grab her hair and yank her in closer. Li's lips went white where she pressed against the urge to cry out in pain.

And just like that, Ace's evening no longer seem to be going quite so well.

~~~

Ace was quiet for a few minutes, once the carriage started to roll again. She wasn't sure how much provocation she should offer a man who was _this_ angry with a woman he'd already given up for dead.

On Ace's left, Tian sat beside her in tense silence. One of the two men who had accompanied Zhu Zhixin had left the carriage to ride alongside the driver. The other one was now squeezed against her right hand side, still holding a fussy Wenling. The baby's eyes were wide open and fixed on the face of her captor. She wriggled quite a bit. Ace realised she'd been expecting something smaller; at twelve months old, Wenling was probably well on the way to becoming a toddler. Not walking yet, but she looked like she had the strength and the will to crawl.

She wondered why Zhu had not returned Wenling to the Zhangs. Perhaps, so far as he was concerned, they had demonstrated this evening that they were unworthy protectors.

The horses trotted along. Li did her best not to make a sound, even when Zhu repeatedly hauled her close, pulling her hair, breathing hard near her ear. He kept looking across at Ace while he did so, measuring her response, hoping to provoke fear or disgust. It didn't take Ace long to make a diagnosis: Zhu hated and feared women, had deeply hidden insecurities and got off on the only type of power he felt able to display. In other words: your basic, run-of-the-mill misogynistic arsehole.

When Zhu finally spoke, his voice was steeped in quiet threat. "You have humiliated me, wife."

Li impressed the hell out of Ace by replying, "I am not your wife."

Not half bad for a terrified woman with a gun to her head.

Zhu reacted with predictable fury. He wrenched Li's head back using his grip on her hair, traced the barrel of the revolver around her eye socket and murmured, "You faithless cunt." Then he altered his grip on the gun, readying it to deliver a blow to her temple.

"So!" Ace said quickly. "I hear you like to murder decent soldiers and enslave women, you piece of shit."

Distracted, Zhu let his gun hand drop. He glared across at Ace. "Who the hell are you to judge me?" he demanded.

"Me? Well, let's see." She held up a hand and counted off on her fingers: "I've never committed murder. Never forced someone into marriage. Never beaten someone up who wasn't already trying to beat me up. Never committed rape, obviously – I mean, you have to be the worst kind of half-man to do that crap, right? So all in all, I'd say that I am well ahead of you on the who-gets-to-judge front." She leaned forward, curled her lip at the man and added, with every ounce of West London bravado she could gather: "That's who I am. _Mush_."

Zhu's eyes blazed, then he lifted the gun and pointed it at her head. And while the gesture wasn't in the least bit comfortable, Ace had been expecting it. At that moment she was so furious on Li's behalf that anything and everything she could do to distract Zhu from her friend was a small victory.

So she arched an eyebrow and sniffed. "Best you can do? Are you so afraid of women that you feel the need to shoot the ones who don't fall at your feet? 'Cause I'm guessing – that's a _lot_ of women. Probably all of them, I reckon."

Li was looking alarmed. "Ace," she whispered. And on Ace's left, Tian shifted as if he was considering a lurch across the carriage to knock that gun-hand away, bless his heart.

The man on Ace's right said, "They want the white woman alive, sir."

Zhu looked frustrated, then he smiled nastily and moved the gun to Ace's left. "They said nothing about her escort."

Ace reacted immediately; she got up as far as the space in the carriage allowed and threw her arse down on Tian's lap, effectively shielding him with her body. "Sorry, Mr Tian," she said as calmly as she could, still staring down Zhu Zhixin. "Bit forward, I know, but I find I like you better without bullet holes."

Tian gave a small grunt that might have been agreement and might have been complaint. Still, if Zhu viewed Tian as the most expendable body in the carriage right now, she was buggered if she was moving.

She turned away from Zhu, mainly because she knew nothing would irritate him more. To his colleague, she said, "They want me alive, eh? And, er, who's 'they'?"

The man blinked. He glanced at Zhu, then he tried a sneer. It seemed he had not had as much practice at sneering as Zhu, since the effect was a touch anaemic. "You will see," he said.

"No doubt." She studied Wenling in the man's arms. "You're holding the baby wrong, by the way. Infants need their heads supporting. Don't you know how fragile their spines are? Are you trying to injure the poor thing?" And okay, she was dredging up barely-learned knowledge that might in fact be irrelevant to a one year old, but Zhu's thug still shifted his hold on the baby, rather clumsily.

Zhu glanced at Wenling, looking concerned, then he snapped, "Give her to the woman." So it would seem she'd sold Zhu on this lie as well.

"God, no, don't give her to me," Ace said. "For one thing, you've forced me to sit on my friend's knee, here. One good pothole and I'll be arse-over-tit. For another – never held a baby unsupervised in my life." She tutted. "How about you give her to her mother?"

Zhu's thug looked to Zhu for guidance. Zhu hesitated.

"Seriously," Ace said. "If you want to give Renxiang a reason _not_ to take a flying dive out of that carriage door? Let her hold her daughter."

Zhu finally nodded. The thug passed Wenling over. Li shuffled away from Zhu's loosened hold and muttered soothing noises as she cradled the baby in her arms. Wenling's wide eyes fixed on her mother, and a tiny hand came up and tried to grab at Li's nose. Li breathed a delighted laugh, even after all that had happened in the last few minutes. She took the little hand in her own, then she glanced up at Ace, just for an instant, eyes shining.

Ace smiled satisfaction. "Hope the fort isn't too much further," she said cheerfully, tossing the words over her shoulder to Tian. "No offence, my friend, but I've sat on meatier laps than yours."

The huffs of disgust from Zhu and his thug were outweighed substantially by the tiny smile that Ace's comment prompted on Li's lips.

The carriage rattled on.

~~~

Everyone piled out once the carriage had drawn up outside the fort. A group of soldiers awaited their arrival and moved to surround them. Zhu frowned at them and then reluctantly tucked his revolver away. Ace waited, watching the gate, wanting to learn to what extent Robert Windham had managed to fool her.

The first man out of the gates was not Windham, however. It was the Chinese soldier who'd accompanied Windham earlier. As he appeared, the other soldiers all seemed to straighten up. This was the man in charge, then. She wondered whether he outranked Zhu. She also began to wonder whether Windham was even aware that she'd been brought back here.

There were muttered conversations between Zhu and the new guy. She couldn't hear them, but they both kept gesturing to Li and the baby. Perhaps Li's presence in this unfolding melodrama had not been predicted.

The voices went suddenly silent. Even Zhu put his shoulders back. Ace blinked at the group, then followed the line of their gaze to the gates of the fort. Another figure had emerged and was walking towards them, cloaked and hooded against the evening chill. The figure was too short to be Windham.

The cloak was tossed over two narrow shoulders. Beneath it, the figure wore a leather biker's jacket and tight black denims, of a style most definitely not common in the early Victorian era. The nature of the clothing was such a surprise that Ace hesitated before she raised her eyes and looked at the face of the person wearing them: a face that was revealed as the hood was thrown back.

Ace said, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Miss Cai grinned back at her. "Still glad you showed me your knickers?"

~~~


	6. Chapter 6

_Wusong Fort_  
_15th April 1844_  
_8:40 pm_

The confusing situation developing outside the gates of the fort was interrupted before Ace could really get a handle on it. Zhu Zhixin barged past Ace and Tian, both of whom had been trying to keep Li and Wenling shepherded between them, and he grabbed Li's shoulder.

"I have business with my wife," he said to Cai. "You must excuse me." Which was, all in all, politer language than Ace had expected.

"Oh must I?" Cai retorted. She rolled her eyes and glanced at Ace. "I mean, that's a turn-up, I'll grant you. Li Renxiang was alive all along, and you managed to find her."

Ace shrugged a shoulder. "I've got skills."

Zhu cut in, more aggressively, "You will _not_ prevent me from claiming my family!"

Ace tensed, darting a look around, assessing her immediate surroundings. She was significantly outnumbered by armed soldiers. She was wearing a corseted, flouncy dress, rendering her less than agile. She didn't want to draw her stun-gun because it would not remain in her possession for long if she did. She could not rely on Li's hand-to-hand moves because Li was still in shock from Zhu's reappearance, not to mention encumbered by her infant daughter. Tian was a good guy and would always do his best, but he wasn't a fighter. The coach driver looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

None of this was ideal given that Ace needed to save her friend from the murderous, controlling man who had forced her into his bed. And she needed to do so _right now_.

Options. Options. She really needed options.

Cai, however, was relaxed when she said, "Ohh, Zhu, you testosterone-soaked idiot, there is nobody currently standing here who recognises that woman and her daughter as 'your family'."

Ace's racing thoughts stuttered. Wasn't Cai supposed to be on team-villain? Wasn't she behind the Doctor's abduction and the TARDIS's theft, not to mention the way people in Shanghai were being shot with guns that shouldn't exist and Wusong town had been drained of its population? And hadn't Cai herself sent Zhu in pursuit of Ace, after directing her to the Baoshan residence?

Cai and Zhu had to be on the same side, right?

And yet Cai had decided to slap Zhu down in front of his fellow soldiers. Certainly, the man was a toxic scumbag, but did villains really care about such things? Was it even possible to be a bad guy while also supporting a zero-tolerance attitude towards domestic abuse?

Damn it, Ace had never been a fan of nuance, and quite frankly she was pissed off that it had chosen _this_ moment to plant its annoying shades-of-grey flag.

Even as she tried to work things out, Zhu's eyes flashed at Cai's comment. He looked around at the gathered soldiers, most of whom were deliberately looking elsewhere. "We are married!" he insisted.

"Only in your tiny little mind," Cai threw back.

Okay, fine. This was a battle of authority, then. One that Cai had deliberately orchestrated. Interesting. Ace checked that Li and the baby were safe between herself and Tian once more, then she settled back to watch.

"You cannot flout the law of this land, woman," Zhu said through clenched teeth.

"Quite sure _you're_ the one who broke the law," Cai returned. "Marriage requires consent, even in this day and age."

Ace narrowed her eyes at the choice of words. She'd already figured out Cai was not from around here – the biker jacket had given _that_ game away – but Ace had the impression that Cai was having a sly laugh at the situation rather than letting slip unintentional clues.

"She was with child!" Zhu barked. He looked back at Li, then glared at the way Ace and Tian eased themselves in front of mother and baby, shielding them from him. Returning his attention to Cai, he added, "She should have been grateful I was willing to restore her reputation!"

"Oh, grow up. There was nothing wrong with her reputation," Cai said. A few of the gathered soldiers shuffled a bit at that. Cai glanced around. "What, so it's okay for you lot to have sex outside wedlock, but not for a girl and a boy who are in love?"

"He was a deserter!" Zhu insisted.

"He was assigned to my protection by his commanding officer!" Li shouted out behind Ace, finding some mettle as the memory of her beloved was besmirched.

Cai shrugged and indicated Li with a point of her thumb. "There you go, Zhu. Following orders. Only thing that boy was guilty of was being better than you. More handsome, more athletic, more charming. Kinder. Cleverer. Probably a fuckton better in bed, right?"

Zhu opened his mouth, outraged, but failed to find any words to respond. After a staring competition with Cai that he lost, Zhu went to draw his revolver. Cai did another eye-roll and gestured to the grim-faced soldier who'd preceded her out of the fort. The soldier snapped out an order so fast and loud that Ace didn't register the translation, but it was enough to make Zhu hesitate and then reluctantly stand down.

Looked like time-twisting supervillain beat woman-enslaving fuckwit. Fair enough. At least it solved one of Ace's immediate problems.

"So," Ace said, "now that's all sorted, how about we unclutter things a bit, eh?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully at Cai. "I'm guessing we should probably talk, you and me. But my friends here – they're of no interest to you. They've got what they came for. Wenling's back with her mum; happy endings all round. So let them go. Meanwhile, I'll come along quietly, yeah?"

Zhu made a spluttery noise of protest. Cai silenced him with a point of her finger, though her eyes didn't leave Ace.

"I've got a better idea," she said. "We'll _all_ take a trip over to the island. And you'll definitely come quietly and do what I say...or I'll hurt your friends. Starting with the little one, who looks kind of easy to damage. How about that?"

Li gave a murmur of distress behind Ace. Ace glanced at Tian to see him swallow hard. The sense of helplessness was horrific. Could she even draw her stun-gun before one of the soldiers noticed the motion and fired at her? Probably not. Wenling's fragility was undeniable, as was Ace's inability to protect her.

Still, on the plus side, with that comment the confrontation had lost a good deal of its nuance. All of a sudden Cai seemed less a champion of moral justice and more a total psychopath.

Surprisingly, this was the moment Zhu decided he'd had enough. In menacing Li's daughter, it seemed Cai had crossed a line. Orders or no, Zhu reached again for his revolver.

A shot rang out.

Li gasped. Zhu sank to his knees on the cobbled road with a startled expression on his face and a hand clutching his leg. When he checked his hand, it was red; he was bleeding from a wound to his thigh.

A soldier swooped in to disarm Zhu. It took Ace a moment to see where the shot had come from: the senior soldier who'd come out of the fort ahead of Cai. The man shrugged and then shouldered his rifle again.

Cai sucked in a breath, then looked at Ace with mischief glinting in her eyes. "1844. Dear oh dear! No antibiotics, no anaesthesia – what are the chances of surviving a gunshot wound to the leg, do you think?"

Ace looked at Zhu, who was now curled around his leg and keening his distress, right there on the cobbles. She thought about how he'd made a pregnant teenager witness the murder of her lover, just after she'd discovered her father had been killed. She thought about him forcing that shocked, frightened, grieving teenager into conjugal slavery.

She swallowed bile. "Don't know; don't care," she said.

"Ah. Ruthless. I can relate. Your friends, though. You care about them, right?"

" _All_ of them," Ace said meaningfully.

Cai nodded. She turned to the senior soldier and said, "I need two armed guards. Stable and feed those horses, and give the driver some supper and an overnight cot. If we aren't back by morning, send him home. And see to Zhu, will you? If he survives the night he'll have learned a valuable lesson; if not, he won't be my problem anymore." She glanced down the cobbled road towards Wusong town. "Oh yeah, and when the Zhangs show up, wailing about a British woman who appears to have magicked their adopted daughter away? Tell them everything's fine and their services are no longer required."

The soldier nodded and issued orders among the group.

"Right, then. Shall we?" Cai said blithely.

She didn't wait for Ace's reply. Instead she turned and began to walk along the cobbled road, steering clear of the gate and instead heading around the fort, making for a path that led down towards the black waters of the Yangtze estuary. Two soldiers formed up behind Ace and her friends, one armed with a rifle and one with a revolver. The soldiers menaced them with their weapons, which was a bit unnecessary considering that Ace was in fact quite eager to share a land mass with the Doctor once more. Li walked beside her with Wenling, Tian on Li's other side, all of them careful with their steps in the dimness. They made awkward progress as a group when the path narrowed and vegetation began to encroach.

"I'm sorry," Ace murmured to her friends. "I hoped you lot would be well away by the time I had to do this part."

"Did you?" Li murmured back. "I didn't. We're in this together."

"Agreed," Tian said.

And wasn't that just bonkers? Five days, Ace had been here. Five days, and her allies would rather walk with her into the fire than run for safety. She didn't know what she'd done to deserve it. It reminded her of the friendships she'd found with Chauhan and Keenan and with the Irrizor ambassador on Colonis. Perhaps something Doctor-ish and inspiring had seeped into her over the years. It had to be something like that; the girl she'd been before she met the Doctor had not been blessed with meaningful friendships aplenty.

That had been by choice, of course. Losing Manisha had taught her the danger of depending on others. She'd always told herself it would be easier never to risk it again.

Something about this current situation forced her to re-examine those old certainties, however. And looking back...it hadn't _all_ been about Manisha. If Ace was entirely honest, she'd tried to protect herself in other ways too. Even at the age of thirteen, she'd recognised the caution and distaste in the faces of her peers. Back then she'd been the problem child, the tearaway, the fodder for social workers. So she'd chosen not to pursue other connections, and she'd made that choice not only because she didn't want to risk losing them as she'd lost Manisha. It was more basic, maybe even more pathetic, than that.

She hadn't wanted to risk rejection.

It all made a boring kind of sense, now she thought about it. Her dad had run off. Her mother had stopped being much of a mum. Her best friend had been murdered. In that context, rejection issues were a tedious inevitability. Weirdly, she found herself smiling as she picked her way along that sloping path. There was something reassuring about finally being able to acknowledge that her screw-ups were understandable.

Was this evidence of some newfound age and experience? Ace supposed it had to be. Maybe a faint sprinkling of that wisdom Li had attributed to her, too.

"You two," she said to her companions, "are sort of incredible." In Li's arms, Wenling did a sleepy huff then went back to her doze. "Yeah, you too, titch."

They stepped out of the pressing greenery to find themselves at the shoreline of a small cove, hidden from sight in most directions by the vegetation that surrounded it. The tide was high. A wooden jetty stretched into the water, lit by halogen lights on tripod stands that were cabled to a small black box: a battery or generator of some kind. Ace blinked at what she could see moored beside the landing pier.

"What _is_ that?" Li whispered nervously beside her.

"Right. Yes. That? Is a speedboat," Ace replied.

Cai turned and shot her a grin. "So cool. Always makes me feel a bit James Bond," she said.

Ace just looked at the boat. "In case you hadn't noticed, I am wearing a sodding crinoline."

"Yeah, I know," Cai replied, laughter in her eyes. "I'm looking forward to seeing how you do with that."

It was Tian who helped Ace find a seat on the cushioned bench running around the back of the boat. Of course it was. His need to be well-mannered didn't falter with the mode of transport or the presence of psychopaths. When Li had been persuaded to join them, he sat close to her and tried to angle his body to form a sort of wind-break to one side of little Wenling.

"No life jackets?" Ace said to Cai, once they'd settled. "You're a health and safety nightmare, you are."

Cai just snorted, as though Ace had said something absurd, and revved the engine. The guard who'd remained on the jetty cast off the mooring and hopped in. Cai steered them out of the cove.

Once on open water, the puttering engine was throttled up to full power. Cai sped them across the estuary, standing at the speedboat's wheel and looking for all the world like she should be wearing a sarong and a bikini and enormous sunglasses, and to hell with the evening dark. Her guards watched Ace and her friends, weapons held at the ready.

They travelled in silence for perhaps five minutes. In the distance, the flattened shape of Changxing Island emerged from shadow as the boat skipped over the waves. Ace estimated that they were halfway there. Opposite her, Li was trying not to look panicked, perhaps reminding herself that she'd grown up near water and had always been a confident swimmer, but she clutched at Wenling as the boat bounced and tipped, and brackish water sprayed them. Her eyes frequently squeezed shut. Tian, a stalwart presence beside her, looked seasick and miserable.

The night air was cold and the breeze was strong across the water. The heavy grey clouds that Ace had noticed earlier remained ominous overhead, shrouding the landscape from any moonlight. She clutched at the wrap that she had somehow managed to keep around her shoulders since Zhu had hijacked their carriage. At this point of the evening, she found herself grateful for the many-layered nature of Victorian dress. Her bruised ribs twinged as her abdominal muscles tensed and adjusted to compensate for the motion of the boat.

After a few more minutes, lights emerged from the darkness ahead. When they drew closer, Ace could pick out a harbour. Three barges were moored alongside piers that jutted out from a quayside. One pier was equipped with a small crane. Cai eased back on the throttle and the engine noise grew quieter.

"So, seriously?" Cai tossed over her shoulder as she piloted the boat. "You didn't realise I was playing you, earlier?"

"Nope," Ace said. "You had me fooled."

"But it didn't strike you as a bit convenient? Everything I told you?"

"Not at the time." Though with the benefit of hindsight, Ace had to admit that the conversation with Cai over a chamber pot had been far too helpful.

"Does that happen to you a lot, then? I mean, do random maidservants often give you the precise information you need?"

Ace shrugged. "More often than you'd expect." She considered the sequence of events that had led to this moment. "If we're doing 'any questions' – care to explain _why_ you sent me to Baoshan instead of just scooping me up and bringing me here?"

"Why? To see what you'd do, I guess."

"You were, what, curious about me?"

"Course! See it from my point of view. I'd just told you where your TARDIS was. Kind of expected you to go hurtling out of Wusong Fort, maybe take on the estuary with nothing more than a bit of determined breaststroke."

Ace took a moment to breathe. How could she not be shocked, after the way Cai had casually dropped the word 'TARDIS' into the conversation? Still, sitting as she was amid a captive audience of non-time-travelling locals, it did not seem a good moment to challenge this. She put the reference aside. "And instead of doing that, I asked you about Zhu."

"Yeah, well, admittedly that was a good choice. If you'd wanted to pique my interest, I mean. I don't make many mistakes, but Zhu Zhixin was one of them."

"A mistake?"

Cai waved her hand dismissively. "Staff issues. Boring. But Zhu's been a liability for months. I couldn't sack him, so I needed him to force a showdown. You provided the opportunity. Good timing. Thanks."

"You're welcome, I s'pose," Ace said. "I didn't do it to help with your industrial relations, though."

"I know. Little Miss Idealism, aren't you? All that talk about gender equality, and to a maid who was helping you with a piss-pot? What was the point? Felt like you were trying to kickstart the women's rights movement, there and then." Cai shot her another glance. "If you're up for that, by the way, I'm totally on board."

"Kind of got a few other things on my to-do list," Ace grumbled. "Miss Li is a decent human being who's been very badly treated. You want to help, help _her_."

"Thought I did. Told you where to find the kid, didn't I? Actually, I bought your story – you know, back at the fort? About some guy wanting revenge for what happened to the baby-daddy? I mean, you'd obviously found some help in Shanghai. Zhu's always been an arsehole. Seemed fair enough to help."

"You didn't think it was a risk, though? Sending me off on a rescue mission? Losing track of me?"

Cai gave a choking kind of laugh, as though Ace had said something ridiculous. "No chance of that. Check your petticoats. Left hand side. You know – the bit I've spent some quality-time with."

Ace frowned, then lifted her multiple skirts. It didn't take long to find the tracking device pinned between layers. "You bloody _tagged_ me."

"Seemed prudent. I've been looking for you for the best part of a week. I'm not usually so easy to elude."

Ace yanked the tracker from her clothes and held it up to examine it, though the limited light within the speedboat was unhelpful. Cai spun the wheel to alter course and cut the engine to barely a putter.

"You want this back?" Ace asked flatly.

"Oh, chuck it over the side if it makes you feel better. I've got loads."

Ace glanced at the waters of the Yangtze estuary, then considered the dangerous anachronism she held in her hand. She placed the tracker on the floor of the craft by her feet. "You can recycle," she told Cai.

"As you like." Cai glanced back at her. "Point is, I could afford to give you a longer leash – see what choices you made." A pause as she faced forward again and adjusted her approach to the harbour. "Out of interest, did you kill anyone at the Zhangs' house?"

"I did not," Ace said tightly.

"How'd you take out the two soldiers I sent after you?"

"Mr Tian got the drop on one; I kneed the other in the balls," she lied.

Cai sounded dubious when she said, "Tian?"

"No one takes much notice of him. It's pretty good, as superpowers go," Ace said blandly.

"Hmm."

"Why'd you send the two soldiers, anyway? We just established you could follow at your leisure."

Cai did an emphatic tut, as if it was a stupid question. "I needed you to think you'd slipped the net." Another over-the-shoulder glance. "Thought you'd at least be smart enough to be cautious."

"So they were my fake tail, were they? There to be beaten? Lull me into a false sense of security?"

"Yup."

Ace gritted her teeth as she thought about Cai's plan. It was a good one. It had built-in redundancy along with plenty of strategic flexibility. All in all, it was making her own plan of 'go to the fort, find the TARDIS, rescue the Doctor' look threadbare.

She decided it was time to start thinking up some better tactics.

In fact, scrub that; it was time to start _thinking_.

~~~

_Changxing Island_  
_9:00 pm_

Cai steered the boat into a mooring bay at one end of the small harbour. The whole place was lit with electric standing lights. A bloke who'd been overseeing the unloading of a barge came over to grab the rope that one of Cai's guards tossed his way, and the speedboat was dragged in close and tied up. Cai stepped out, ignoring the hand offered by the dock worker. A guard followed and turned to keep the rest of them covered with his rifle. Ace waited until Tian had handed Li and Wenling safely up to the pier and he'd followed them off the boat. Then she got up, aware that the craft was rocking with each bit of movement.

"Right then," Cai said, when everyone was ready. She looked at one of her guards: the one armed with a revolver. "We're going to play nicely, for now. Take Miss Li, the baby and...you know, that guy..." She gestured at Tian. "Take them to the harbour office. Maybe send someone to get them some food. That is, if Captain Seasick there can eat without heaving." The guard nodded and went to turn away, but Cai stopped him. "But," she said, lifting an authoritative finger, "we stop playing nicely if they try to get away. Got it?" She glared meaningfully at Li and Wenling for a moment. "If they try anything, feel free to shoot them. At that point they're not worth the hassle of keeping alive." She looked at the other guard. "You're with me." And at Ace: "You too. Obviously."

Ace gave her friends an apologetic look. "I'll be back," she told them. "Don't do anything daft."

Cai laughed. "You're confident, I'll give you that! Let's go, then."

Ace followed her away from the harbour, up a wide gravelled path with a slight incline. The armed guard was a menacing presence at her back, but she chose to ignore him.

Now they'd finally arrived, she could tell that the island was bigger than she'd realised: a dozen miles long, perhaps even more. Both sides of the gravel track were thick with trees and low-lying greenery, though as they made their way up the slope the vegetation grew thinner. The track formed an occasional crossroads with other pathways. Ace figured that the side of the island visible from the mainland had been kept relatively undeveloped. All the important stuff was sequestered behind a perimeter of trees and shrubs.

Freeing herself from Cai and the guard was pointless. Not only would it put Li and the others in danger, but it would serve no purpose. Ace couldn't search the whole island for the Doctor. She needed Cai to take her to him, or she needed the TARDIS and its scanners. For now, she decided to play along.

"Go on then," she said to Cai, after it seemed they were going to be walking for more than a minute or two. "Give us a clue. You know what a TARDIS is, so – one heart or two?"

Cai shot her an amused look. "I'm as human as you are, Ace."

Ace frowned. "You know my name, then."

"Process of elimination. When the Doctor muttered it in his sleep, he might've been giving the thumbs-up to his dream. But calling out 'Ace!' in the middle of a spot of torture? Couldn't really put that down to having a good time. So we figured it was your name." Cai smirked. "Never heard him yell 'Dorothy', by the way."

Ace swallowed hard and took a moment to overcome the urge to launch herself at this woman, maybe try out that finger-jab-to-the-throat move Li had taught her. Cai wanted to talk about torture, like it was a throwaway line? This woman was a fucking mental.

Instead, she said, "So who's 'we'?"

"You'll meet my business partner soon enough."

"Can't wait." She really couldn't. She had payback to plan. "Let's get this straight, then. You've got a steel refinery going here, along with – apparently – some means of mass-distilling petrochemicals. You're a tad early for fibreglass–"

"Actually, that's not dissimilar to refining iron ore. Same basic process, some shared ingredients. Wouldn't be hard to adapt." Cai drew in a deep lungful of the cool evening air. "Not that we bothered. I nicked the speedboat from 1998."

"And you're manufacturing cartridge-loading revolvers a few decades before you should."

"Ah, a decade here, a decade there..."

"But I'm guessing that's just to keep the money coming in, right? I mean – better guns than everyone else has? Pretty marketable commodity, that. And the resources you and your 'business partner' need – all those barges of raw materials, not to mention the means to keep your workforce fed and watered and loyal – all that won't come for free."

"You know, you're not just a pretty face, are you?" Cai winked at her. "Although I have to tell you, that hairstyle is _not_ doing you any favours." She turned right at one of the junctions and began to lead them down a new path. "Now. Tell me what it's all for."

Ace considered. She was getting a handle on what was going on here. The _why_ of it was a different matter. "I'm guessing, from what you've said, your partner's another Time Lord."

"You don't have the monopoly on them."

"Apparently not. God, tell me it isn't the Master. I'd be very happy never to have to look at his stupid moustache-twirling face again."

Cai stopped and turned around, interested now. "The Master? The Doctor? Seriously, were they all in some adolescent gang or something? Don't any of them use their actual names?"

Ace shrugged. "Not in my experience."

"Guess I'm more experienced than you, then."

"Oh yeah? So what's yours called?"

"Mortimus."

"Pretty. And is Mortimus even the slightest bit interested in the Laws of Time?"

Cai stepped closer. Since she had engineered her own dramatic reveal outside the fort she'd been blithe and confident and prone to grins and laughter, but Ace now saw something quite different. A frown creased between Cai's eyes.

"The Laws of Time," she said quietly.

Ace held her gaze. "You know – fixed points, non-intervention, all that stuff that prevents the universe from collapsing about our ears?"

"Oh, he's got you well trained, hasn't he? Your Doctor."

"If you mean he's got me convinced that the universe collapsing is a bad idea? S'pose so."

Cai shook her head. "How good is your Chinese history?"

"Not very. Lots of dynasties. Two shitty wars, because the British Empire liked getting rich off drug-dealing. Communism and Chairman Mao. Tank-man. The mass murder of student protestors. Couldn't tell you too much more. Even Tiananmen's after my time."

"What _is_ your time?" Cai put in.

"I was born in 1970. West London. You?"

"2052, Hong Kong." Cai shook her head. "Look, this war that just happened here – in the future, the Chinese people will know it as the start of their century of humiliation. That's the word they use: 'humiliation'. An entire nation. And sure, they'll eventually do something about it, modernise, change things – hence, the People's Republic. But in the meantime, millions of people are going to die. _Hundreds_ of millions. That's not hyperbole. I'm not rounding up figures here for the sake of drama. It is a cold, calculable fact – hundreds of millions of unnatural, premature deaths. If you need some context, that's more than the combined death toll of the first and second world wars."

Ace held Cai's gaze, then nodded. "Okay, that's the kind of thing I should have been taught in school. Granted."

Cai sneered. "I'm not talking about that. I don't care about your white liberal guilt. I'm stating a historic fact. In the coming century, hundreds of millions of Chinese people are going to die. Not just in the Opium Wars. The Taiping Rebellion. The Boxer Rebellion. The Rape of Nanjing." Cai paused and took a breath. "And almost all of those deaths are one hundred per cent avoidable."

Ace's eyes narrowed. "You just said they're a historic fact."

"No. No. Sometimes, if you can change one thing then you can change _everything_. Imagine it! Death, on that unfathomable scale, and you could stop it. Right along with all the shit that goes with conflict – all the starvation and the disease and the rape and the anguish."

Ace squeezed her lips together, moved by Cai's words in spite of herself. "And this one thing you want to change?"

"Go on, guess. Shouldn't be tricky."

Ace nodded. "You want to change the outcome of the Second Opium War."

"Ha!" Cai's laughter was sharp and unfriendly. "God, even the guilt-ridden liberals can't let go of their arrogance, can they? It always has to be about you. _Your_ nation. _Your_ actions."

"So tell me how I've got it wrong," Ace pressed, straining to keep calm.

"The next war – it's just one small part of it. And yes, we will change the outcome, you can be sure of that, but before we do so we need to overthrow this useless Qing regime."

" _That's_ your one thing? You want to force a _coup d'_ _état_?"

"Why not? The Qing authority is responsible for the shit-storm to come. Directly. Demonstrably. _Their_ abject failures. _Their_ weaknesses. _Their_ pathetic propaganda. Hundreds of millions of lives, Ace. And not just that. They are the reason why, come the end of the next century, the government gets so freaked out by the faintest _whiff_ of protest that students are gunned down and activists are disappeared and in Hong Kong, when I'm just eight years old..." Her words tailed off. She breathed hard for several seconds. "Doesn't matter. Yes, we'll change things. And we'll save lives. So don't you ever say the words 'laws of time' to me again. I don't care. Mortimus has given me the chance to make things better. If it works, great. If it doesn't, and the universe collapses, then so the fuck what? Far as I'm concerned, it won't be any worse than what's going to happen if I don't even try."

With that, Cai turned around and marched off down the path. Ace stared after her for a moment, until the barrel of a rifle prodded her in the back and she hitched up her skirts and followed.

~~~

Not far from the turn-off, the path opened up and Ace found herself walking through a village. Everything looked newly built. There were tidy if basic dormitory buildings and a few communal fire pits where subdued, heavy-eyed men sat around, watching them walk past. There was an open-air kitchen serving bowls of steaming food. The day was winding down for the workers of Changxing; they would retire well-fed to a decent bunk, and wake tomorrow to work their anachronistic industries once again.

The one thing conspicuous by its absence was opium.

"No chasing the dragon, then?" Ace said lightly.

"It's a capital offence to be in possession of poppy on this island," Cai said. "The men stopped trying to bypass the rules after we arranged the first public hangings."

Ace swallowed hard. It seemed Cai hadn't been kidding when she'd championed ruthlessness.

Cai glanced at her and raised a brow at her expression. "Hey, they should be thanking us. We've actually nursed about two dozen men through withdrawal."

So Cai was all for women's rights and the rehabilitation of drug addicts, but she'd happily execute rule-breakers and threaten a baby to get her way? She'd write off the entire _universe_ just because she didn't like something about her little corner of it? Ace was finding it hard to figure this woman out.

At the far end of the village, separated from it by a patch of woodland, was a house: two storeys, timber-built, with lights shining from several windows. This place had generators, modern conveniences. This was the boss's gaff. Ace's heart quickened. She knew she was closer to the Doctor right now than she'd been for five days.

Cai walked up to the front door and turned the handle to open it. Unlocked. It seemed that Cai and her pal Mortimus didn't worry about their captive workforce hankering for a spot of pilferage.

Cai led Ace and the guard inside and made them wait while she took off her leather jacket and hung it up. The domesticity of the action felt jarring. Beneath the jacket, her T-shirt was a plain dark crimson with high sleeves. It hung over the waistband of her jeans.

"Mort!" Cai yelled.

A pause, then, "I'll be down in a few minutes!" floated from somewhere around the top of the staircase that lined the side of the house's entrance hall. The voice was disappointingly underwhelming.

Cai jerked her head in a 'this way' gesture and took the party through a door on the left side of the hall. They made their way into a furnished reception room, with wide couches surrounding a low table on which a wafer-thin laptop stood open. Ace looked around with interest. The computer wasn't the only feature of the room that was out of place in nineteenth century China: there was what looked like a telly, also improbably thin and mounted on the wall; there was an electric fan and heater set into the ceiling, rotating to stir up the humid evening air; on a desk to one side was a selection of electronic components and a soldering iron resting on a stained and wrinkled bit of sponge.

While she checked out the room, Ace was thinking. She needed to get a handle on Cai and this Mortimus bloke, and on the dynamic between them. Looking around, they obviously didn't care about anachronisms. She could imagine their frequent time-and-space shopping trips. 'Mort! We're out of custard-creams! Fancy a quick hop to 1986?' Their attitude towards time travel truly seemed that blasé.

So what did she know? Mortimus was a Time Lord, but he didn't seem to operate to the same set of rules or principles as the Doctor. He'd chosen as a companion a young woman from twenty-first century Earth, and he was apparently happy to indulge her desire to change history. That indicated either a close bond between the two of them, or possibly a convenient alignment of their mutual goals. That said, it was hard to imagine why a Time Lord would be so invested in China's wars and uprisings.

What else? They'd been here long enough to build this community, to establish industries and manufacturing processes, to infiltrate the British merchants' set-up at the fort and connect with local businesses and criminal syndicates on the mainland. That would have taken a year at the very least, Ace estimated.

Which sort of begged a question: why had the British Empire still won the First Opium War?

Mortimus and Cai had come here to change Chinese history. They'd spent time setting things up. They had the means to time travel and nick speedboats and tellies and anything else they fancied. So why hadn't the two of them arrived a few years earlier? They'd known when the Opium Wars would kick off. They'd known where the Brits would be, and what their resources were; with a TARDIS at their disposal they could have sabotaged the British campaign before it even got going.

Why hadn't they done that? Was it because they couldn't? Or because they'd chosen not to?

Ace frowned as she sorted through these ideas, storing away the facts and the questions that might yet prove useful. She looked back towards the door to the hall; it remained open, presumably in anticipation of Mortimus's arrival, and the guard had taken up a position next to it. In the wall opposite the door there was a window, but the darkness outside meant that it was impossible to see what was beyond and whether it might make a decent emergency escape route.

"Sit down if you like," Cai said. "Want a drink?"

"No thanks."

Cai arched a brow at that, even as she went to a mini-refrigerator in one corner that looked like it had been removed from a swanky hotel. She got herself a bottle of some kind of fancy water and cracked the top. "You know, I'm being very nice here. Didn't let Zhu claim your little friend, did I? Didn't kill your driver, let you rescue the baby. I've even answered all your questions."

"No offence – I'm just not thirsty," Ace said. "Tea with the Zhangs, straight after tea with that feckless British prick." She took a few steps around the room, pretending to examine things. From the corner of her eye she saw the guard at the door check his rifle's chambered cartridge, then level his gun at her. She ignored him. "So does Windham know you aren't actually some shy local skivvy?" 

Cai waved at the guard that things were fine, and he dipped the barrel of his rifle. "Course not," she replied, as though they were just chatting and the man with the gun wasn't even there. "The Apcar lot are our best means of deflecting attention away from Changxing."

Ace nodded. She kept wandering until she'd found her way to the window, then she tried to peer beyond the glass. All she could see was the reflection of her own face. Cai was right; the hairstyle was awful. It was also beginning to come apart. Ace unclipped her wrap and set it aside. She reached up for the pins that held her bun in place and pulled them out, as though it had always been her intention to sort out her appearance using the glass of the window.

"But Windham knows about the guns, right?" she prompted, finger-combing her hair free. She felt better now she could move her arms more freely.

"Yup. Amazing what people will tolerate on their very own doorstep for a bit of a kickback."

Ace turned her back on the window so she could face Cai. Her patience had reached its limit. She drew a breath, placed her hands on her hips and then asked the only question that was of any real importance; the one that had been burning inside her since they'd disembarked:

"When can I see the Doctor?"

Cai smirked. "What makes you think you can?"

"The fact that I'm still alive."

Cai wrinkled her brow, inviting Ace to explain.

Ace sighed, but explained anyway. "If I wasn't any use to you, you'd have killed me. As it stands, I'm a potential spanner in the works. So you want me for something – probably to persuade the Doctor to do whatever it is your chum Mortimus has failed to make him do."

"So far," Cai said sharply.

"So far," Ace agreed. "And not for want of trying. Even using torture. And let's just examine the word for a moment. _Torture_. Makes your greater-good intentions look a bit tarnished, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't give a fuck about your so-called moral high ground," Cai snapped. "There's more at stake."

Behind Cai, the guard reacted to his boss's tone with a renewed alertness. His rifle barrel lifted.

"There always is," Ace said, ignoring the guard. "And you know what I've learned? The only way to serve the big picture is to do the right thing by the little pictures. One choice at a time."

"You're lecturing me now?"

"Just sharing my viewpoint. 'Cause seriously, how often does this happen? You're the first other 'me' I ever met – human companion to a space-and-time-travelling alien? Feels like we should compare notes."

"Does it," Cai said without enthusiasm. "And what's the point?"

"Have it your way. Point is, you need me in order to get something from the Doctor."

"We don't need anything from him, or you."

"Really? Then why is the Doctor here?"

"He came to us! He didn't have to butt-in; he could have just walked away."

"Could he? The six armed men who took him prisoner didn't seem to feel that way."

Cai huffed. "I don't even know why Mortimus is so interested in him. Or your ship."

Now that was interesting. Mortimus was interested in the TARDIS? Why would that be, since he already had one of his own?

"Mortimus didn't tell you?" Ace said, mild of tone, fiddling with her dress's lacy collar as though the question wasn't the least bit significant.

"Mort has an impressive talent for selective deafness," Cai grumbled.

Watching her, Ace suspected Cai was revealing a genuine sense of frustration. It occurred to Ace that the Doctor's presence on this island _bothered_ Cai.

Playing into this, Ace said, "There we go. We're comparing notes, after all. Time Lords can be annoying as hell."

Cai snorted a laugh at that. "No argument here."

"I mean, I know what my one's like; he can be stubborn as they come."

"Right."

"Never lets on if he gets an idea in his head."

Cai nodded. "Forgets that just because _he's_ got centuries ahead of him, it doesn't mean his friends have that much time at their disposal."

"And then there's the smug superiority," Ace added.

"God, tell me about it!"

"You ever wonder if it's possible to just slap the smugness off him?"

"Only every day!"

Ace barked a laugh that sounded fake to her ears, but Cai was in the swing of things now and didn't notice. With a sigh that sounded almost wistful, Ace said, "Good job they come with all the positive stuff as well, right?"

"Makes up for it," Cai agreed.

"I mean – time travel! Seeing the galaxies!"

"Beats EasyJet," Cai said.

Ace smiled and nodded, though she didn't get the reference. "And for all their faults – well. You can't help but feel privileged, can you?"

"Not many like us, get these chances." Cai took a drink from her water bottle. "Mort was just a way out of a bad situation for me, once upon a time. Now – I'd probably take on an army if it meant keeping him safe."

The opening was exactly what Ace had been waiting for. "Know what you mean. One minute they're the weird alien with two hearts and a nose for adventure, next thing you know they're the centre of your world."

"Yeah."

"And god help anyone who tries to hurt them."

"Ye–" Cai stopped and narrowed her eyes.

Ace spoke quietly now, making Cai strain to listen. "For instance – what would you do if someone stole Mortimus away from you and then subjected him to, I dunno, say...torture?"

Cai straightened her shoulders and tried to look haughty. " _I_ wouldn't let it happen."

"Reckon? Not been doing this very long, have you? I lost that kind of hubris sometime in my second year, I think."

Cai made a scoffing noise. "You want to get into a pissing contest?"

"I think I already won at pissing, this evening. No, I'm just asking for a moment of empathy. You've obviously got plenty. You wouldn't give a shit about all the lives that will be ruined by Qing China and the British Empire if you didn't."

"So?"

"So what would you do if you were in my position?"

Cai sneered at her. "Maybe I wouldn't waste time talking!"

"The Doctor's actually a big believer in talking."

"Not in my experience."

"That's 'cause you went about things all wrong. Cup of tea and a toasted tea-cake? There'd be no shutting him up. But you had to go the pain-route, didn't you?" Ace arched a brow. "Hasn't he got round to telling you he's been tortured by experts? It's his go-to line."

"He has a go-to line for torture? So you fail to keep him out of trouble a lot, do you?" Cai goaded her.

Ace smiled a small smile, though her chest tightened painfully as she thought how hard it was to do this shit without the Doctor standing there beside her, reading her cues and offering his own. Because they were a team, a _good_ team, a team that had won the day a hundred different times in a hundred different ways.

"He's known a scrape or two, down the centuries," Ace said. "Funnily enough, I wasn't around for most of them. But in the four years we've been together, I have never seen anyone succeed in making him do something he believes is wrong. He'll take whatever you throw at him. He won't crack."

"Interesting," Cai said. "So you reckon he'll be more pliable if we torture _you_? You know. Like, right in front of him? Thanks for the tip."

Ace's smile grew more genuine, because it was obvious that Cai was trying to frighten her. Ace was beginning to realise that even though Cai enjoyed the apparent position of strength right now, Ace was better at these situations, more experienced, more informed than this young woman from future Hong Kong.

"The Doctor once took me to a planet on the verge of civil war," Ace said, as if recounting an anecdote. "Left me there. Buggered off. And that planet's history held the record of my death. He knew that. He knew it up front, and he still took me there, and he left. All because he knew I had to be a part of its history. Keep the timelines intact." She drifted a moment in memory, before she shook herself free. "So you see, I wouldn't go looking to use his affection for me as leverage."

"Colonis," Cai said.

Ace went very cold. "Um..."

"That's what you're talking about, right? Colonis?"

"How did you know?"

"I've got your rucksack," Cai explained. "It was picked up at the same time as the Doctor. Mort had me go through it. So tell me, your little 'dear diary' – the stuff on Colonis was real but the dreams were just dreams. Do I have that right?"

An awkward pause. "Well, this is embarrassing," Ace finally offered.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry. I don't care about your schoolgirl fantasies. What I do care about is the fact that when the Doctor dreams, _and_ when he's in mental agony, he calls your name." Cai flashed a smile, her confidence returning. "I think you'll be surprised how quickly he caves once we start pulling your fingernails."

"He has the ability to do basic mathematics," Ace said. "Me, versus the sanctity of all time and space? I come second."

"Aw, what happened to those little pictures, one choice at a time?"

"He leaves those to me. And I am never going to let you use me to get to him."

Cai nodded thoughtfully, then she huffed a laugh. "Kudos for trying, _Dorothy_ , but you couldn't bluff your way out of a soggy paper bag. You'll help. And you'll do it without fucking us around, because if you don't?" Cai put her hand in a pocket of her jeans and drew out a small electronic device that Ace recognised as a twenty-first century Smartphone. "I'll contact the harbour office right now and tell them to put the baby in a sack and find some bricks."

There was a moment of silence. Ace wanted to continue her bluff, but how could she? Cai had her there, fair and square. Indeed, the stand-off that ensued might have gone on for quite some time, were it not for several things that happened in rapid succession.

Behind Cai, two narrow arms snuck through the open doorway and grabbed on to the guard's rifle barrel. The arms yanked, and the guard yelped and stumbled as he followed the motion downwards, his training demanding that he refuse to relinquish his hold on the weapon. While he was off balance, one of the arms chopped the guard on his exposed neck and he sank to the floor.

Cai, alerted by the sound, spun around. She noticed the attack on the guard, said, "Hey!" and foolishly wasted a precious second or two, finding a place to set her bottle of water down. Then she reached under the back of her T-shirt to reveal a handgun: one that was substantially more than a handful of decades out of its time. She tugged it from the back of her jeans and chambered a round in one smooth motion.

By this time Ace had moved to the nearest bit of cover – which happened to be behind one of the large couches – and was grabbing for her stun-gun. She pulled it out of its pouch and unfurled it.

"Fucking get back here!" Cai shouted.

It seemed that Li, having dropped the guard, wasn't quite so stupid as to remain a target.

Ace stood up, took aim and shot Cai in the back. Cai collapsed, unconscious. Ace wasted no time in coming out from behind the couch, because she had to get her heroic-if-slightly-reckless friend away from the other bad guy in the building. Li appeared in the doorway, eyes shining, a satisfied smile on her face.

"You're all right!" she said. "Good. Mr Tian is just outside. I have found your blue box! Back door, this way. Come on!"

Li moved out of sight. Ace gathered her skirts in order to follow as quickly as possible. The hallway looked clear, as did the staircase. She hurried along, keeping her stun-gun ready just in case. If she could get them all into the TARDIS then at least they'd be safe. Then she could get to work on pinpointing the Doctor's location.

The open back door was in sight when something bit into the skin of her back, just below the collar of her frock. A moment later a bolt of agony surged through her body and her muscles lost control. She pitched to one side then fell to the ground, spasming wildly. Her head slammed hard against the wooden floorboards.

The agony abated, leaving her breathless, dizzy and disoriented. Even so, her capacity for stubborn determination meant she was just about able to shift her position to look behind her.

A tall man approached, dressed in what looked like a long silk dressing gown, or robe, or some such, dark purple in colour with gold spherical patterns. His hair was dark and long, swept back into a plait, and he sported a beard. The whole look might have been thoroughly East Asian, maybe even a bit mystical, except for two things: the man's face looked as European as Ace's own, and he was holding a Taser. The spill of wires between the weapon and Ace glinted in the electric light.

The man paused and looked through the open doorway of the reception room. He saw the unconscious bodies within. Though Ace's vision was blurred and blotchy at that moment, she noticed his shoulders stiffen as he turned back.

"She'd better not be dead," the man said.

Ace tried to speak but found she could not. She was actually doing rather well to manage the odd breath.

"Still, just in case she is..." the man added.

He activated the Taser again. Ace heard herself cry out before blackness descended.

~~~


	7. Chapter 7

_Changxing Island_  
_15th April 1844_  
_10:08 pm_

Hands.

There were hands on her, grabbing, pulling, moving. They were not Ace's hands, nor were they hands whose touch she had invited.

Not good.

She told her muscles to move, to push herself away, to strike out.

She couldn't move.

Was this shock? Had she frozen? And why was everything black?

Eyes. Her eyes were shut.

She told herself to open her eyes. Open. Open. Open.

It didn't work. Nothing worked. She was like an Ace-consciousness trapped inside an inanimate Ace-doll. It was about the most frustrating thing she had ever experienced.

Ace forced herself to put the urge to panic aside and, instead, to concentrate on what she knew.

She was breathing: inhale, exhale, repeat. Okay, that was a good start.

She was lying down, because she could feel a hard surface under her back. Just as well, since her body was unresponsive. At least she had no distance to fall.

Everything hurt. No...no, not everything, or at least not everything _equally_. There was a throbbing pain at her right temple, as though someone had taken a hammer to her head. A soreness was present in her muscles, like the day after you've exercised too hard. Inhaling prompted a twinge in her chest, but only if her breathing deepened. Something burned at the back of her neck, low enough to be irritated by contact with the surface she lay on.

Right then. This was good; pain was good. She was breathing, she'd been injured, she was on her back. All of this proved that she was alive and conscious.

More. What else did she know?

Her name was Dorothy McShane but her friends called her 'Ace'. She was twenty years old and travelled with a man known as the Doctor. Her life consisted of exploration and adventure, and she loved it. Which was also how she felt about her travelling companion: fierce, devoted love.

(She had some vague awareness that those feelings had become a problem. The thought made her heart hurt, but in a way less tangible than her injuries, so she put it aside.)

Time to get practical. Where the hell was she?

She was...she was in China. Shanghai, or nearby. An island! That was it, she was on an island, and she'd come to rescue the Doctor because as usual he'd got himself into trouble. But in the weirdest of twists it turned out that there was another Time Lord and another companion here in China. Except they were different. Reckless. Selfish. They didn't care about people. Or maybe they were just a whole lot choosier in the things they bothered to care about.

Yes, she thought she had that right.

And she'd made a friend. Ace remembered now. Li Renxiang, a beautiful human being who'd been to hell and back, yet hadn't lost any of her beautiful humanity. Li Renxiang had come to the island with her. But they'd been separated.

Hadn't they?

Yes, separated, back at the harbour. But not for long. Somehow Li had got away from her guard–

Ace interrupted herself with a mental eye-roll, since she couldn't manage a physical one. _Of course_ Li had got away from her guard. Li was a shadowy avenger, a spirit of the night, but she happened to live in a time and place where nobody expected women to be capable. She'd got away, because when you put Li Renxiang in a room with a single chauvinistic guard the battle was already won. She would have incapacitated him quicker than thought.

Li had managed to find Ace. Maybe she'd tailed Ace from the harbour, since that single guard would not have delayed her. And then she'd rescued Ace from Cai.

But there'd been another enemy: a man in a dressing gown. Which brought her back to...

Hands.

"It's here somewhere," a male voice growled. "I know it is!"

What was he looking for? And why did looking for it require him to maul Ace's clothing about?

"What the hell is this?" he added, some time later – maybe two seconds or two minutes, it was hard to tell. "A capsule?" he muttered to himself. "Yes, a capsule of something. Medicine? Poison? Toiletries?" At least the rummaging at Ace's middle section had ceased for a while. "Ah," the man said. "Fingerprint scanner, is it? I'm guessing – a weapon. A weapon that needs to be primed. Hmm. Explosives? The Doctor buys you dangerous toys, girl."

Ace's anger flared. Number one: she had designed and crafted that marble of Nitro Nine-A with her own hands; no one had bought it for her. Number two: used properly, there was nothing dangerous about it, which was why she happily carried explosives around in her pockets. And number three: she was an adult female. She had not been a 'girl' for more than two years.

Ace promised herself that as soon as her muscles started to respond to the signals from her brain, she'd have words with this dickwad about infantilising women.

Anger was good. Anger was fuel. Her eyes managed to flutter open. The sudden presence of bright light was agonising; she felt tears of reaction trickle down the side of her face. Ace blinked them away, too grateful for the return of muscle-control to care about the additional discomfort. She waited as the brightness resolved into shadows that became shapes and, finally, lines and movement.

The tall, bearded man in dark purple who could only be Mortimus was kneeling at her left hand side. She remained on the wooden floorboards of the house's hall, but she'd been rolled on to her back, the Taser disconnected from her skin and tossed aside. Mortimus hadn't yet noticed her attention because he was still examining the contents of the pouches beneath her waist-ruffles. He had in his hands the lamb's leather gloves that Ace had stowed away earlier, and he'd just found the bracelet of pearls she'd hidden within one of them.

She couldn't lift her head, but she twitched the fingers of her right hand, just to be sure that she could. Her muscles responded, albeit sluggishly. Good. She was getting there. Ace closed her eyes again, not prepared to risk discovery too soon, happy to play possum.

"Come on, girl, it has to be here somewhere," Mortimus muttered, after growing bored with the gloves and setting them aside. Those uncaring hands yanked up one section of her skirts and crinoline. At least she could be sure he was more interested in finding a hidden leg-holster than ogling her undies.

Ace tried to work out what he was looking for. He and his companion already had access to her rucksack, which contained far more in the way of her worldly possessions than those she'd been able to keep about her person. So what could this Time Lord possibly want from her? The earring she wore in her left lobe was valuable only if you wanted to make use of its connection to the TARDIS. Her stun-gun was a useful bit of kit, but since she'd been holding the weapon when she went down, Mortimus must have taken note of it and not been interested. She didn't have any money. Apart from Madam Deng's pearls and her own earrings, she had no jewellery.

The only other things she had were the clothes on her back, and most of those belonged to someone else. The steel-toed Docs were of great value to Ace, though Mortimus didn't look much like a size five so they'd hardly be of any use to him–

She stopped that thought. Her Doctor Martens. _Of course_. How could she be so stupid? Put it down to losing consciousness for the second time in less than a week.

Mortimus was looking for her TARDIS key. The key that was currently located in her sock, under the arch of her right foot.

The theory seemed sound, and it fit the facts as Ace understood them. One: the TARDIS had been retrieved only a day after that barge crew had brought the Doctor to Mortimus. And Cai herself had admitted that Mortimus was interested in the TARDIS.

Two: in recent days, the Doctor had been subjected to torture. This indicated that Mortimus wanted something from him.

Three: Cai's goal was to rewrite Chinese history, yet she and Mortimus had arrived here too late to disrupt the First Opium War. That seemed like a missed opportunity. Ace could see no reason for them to _choose_ to miss it, therefore she theorised that they'd missed it by accident. Was there something about Mortimus's TARDIS that was unreliable? Inaccurate in its handling?

Could he be looking to upgrade, maybe?

Okay, so some of it was speculation, but Ace was assured of one thing. Mortimus wanted to get inside the Doctor's TARDIS.

Since he was ransacking Ace's clothing, she could only conclude that so far a key to the TARDIS had eluded him. Not surprising, given the Doctor's talent for making things disappear into thin air. Ace couldn't match the Doctor in that regard. If Mortimus continued with his search then he'd find her key eventually. Fortunately, even if he did, her key would do him no good. It was programmed to respond only to her or the Doctor, thanks to the ship's metabolism scanner, and there was no way she was going to unlock the ship and invite Mortimus inside.

An annoying voice in her head asked what Ace was going to do if Mortimus pointed Cai's handgun at the head of one of her friends and then _insisted_ on her opening up the TARDIS for him.

She felt a surge of fear. Ace couldn't bear the notion that she might be the reason the Doctor lost his ship, but equally she knew she couldn't stand by and watch Mortimus take the lives of her friends just for the sake of keeping the TARDIS from him.

She needed another plan. And frankly it was high time for her to do something.

She tried to relax, and she listened, past the muttering and rustling sounds Mortimus made as he shamelessly violated her person. She heard something from a room further along the hall: the reception room, yes. Cai would probably still be out cold, as would the guard Li had knocked out, but someone was in there. Someone was whispering, murmuring. Repetitive sounds. Scared, but trying not to be scared.

Li was attempting to soothe her daughter.

Okay. That meant that Li, Wenling and hopefully Tian were all nearby. Mortimus would probably have found at least one more guard to keep them corralled in that room, so when Ace finally got up the energy to lift her legs and smack this pathetic excuse for a Time Lord in the head with her lovely, anachronistic boots, she needed to be ready for an armed guard to come charging into the hall.

Mortimus said, "Brassiere! Sometimes they hide things there." And the hands, those uninvited hands, were immediately pulling at her neckline.

Ace was getting well and truly fed up with people in this time and place taking unforgivable liberties with her body. Her eyes snapped open. Her left hand reached up to grab Mortimus's right arm. She lifted her legs, ignoring a dozen different pains, and pulled her knees up to her chest, even as she tugged Mortimus off-balance with the grip on his arm. Then she kicked out, clipping his left shoulder.

It was a move Li had taught her in a sunlit field near the river, just yesterday afternoon: how to deal damage to an opponent who has put you on the ground. And it worked beautifully. Her hold on Mortimus's arm pulled him in one direction and the power from her kick snapped him in another. His body twisted as it tried to accommodate two oppositional forces. Mortimus let out a yelp of shock and pain: a noise that was intensely satisfying.

If Ace had been fit she'd have dislocated the bastard's shoulder. As it was, he flung himself away from her and then scrambled along the hallway floor on his backside, clearly astounded that the 'girl' he'd Taser-ed had managed to hurt him.

But when Ace tried to get to her feet she realised that the tables hadn't turned in the way she'd hoped. The adrenaline burst that had allowed her to lift and kick her legs was already subsiding, and she could not seem to coordinate her limbs well enough to stand up. While she tried, effectively recreating a Bambi-on-ice scene there in the hall, Mortimus yelled something that sounded very cross indeed, and an armed guard appeared through the door to the reception room. The guard noticed his boss on the floor, clutching his shoulder and swearing in what Ace was pretty sure was Gallifreyan, and he promptly turned his rifle on her.

Ace gave up on trying to stand. She slumped, grinned at the guard and said, "Go ahead." And she meant it. Her helplessness had made her furious, and her fury had distilled the whole situation into a stark binary choice:

Betray the Doctor, or don't.

The thing was, if this guard shot her, her TARDIS key was rendered useless. The Doctor would eventually find a way to release himself from captivity – he always did – and he'd still have a ship to go home to, and the universe got to keep that crumpled man in his beautiful blue box, and for centuries to come despots would be trounced and invasions scuppered and wrongs righted.

In that moment, Ace saw this option as a victory. She shifted her eyes to Mortimus and she wasn't even afraid when she said, "Tell him to shoot."

The Time Lord glared at her a moment, then he shouted at his guard to hold. He got up, rubbed at his kicked shoulder, rolled his head on his neck and then tugged at his clothing as if reclaiming his dignity.

The moment passed.

A dizzying sensation swept over Ace from out of nowhere: an ambivalent rush of disappointment and relief. There was a faint ringing in her ears that she noticed only as it faded away. Her heart was thumping. The sharp clarity of her thoughts grew muddy with an onrush of qualifiers and reminders and contradictions. And whether she was being selfish or merely self-preserving, an internal voice pointed out that while not betraying the Doctor was all well and good, wouldn't it be more fun to do it while running around the universe with him?

The guard looked between Mortimus and Ace, tense but hesitant. Ace wondered how her friends were faring in the room behind him. Mortimus just stalked past him, still glaring, still worrying at his bruised shoulder.

"Not very ladylike," he accused her.

Ace snorted her derision. "Consider the context. You shot a woman unconscious then stuck your hands down her dress. Where I come from, there's a word for that."

Mortimus actually paused and blinked, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. Then he sneered at her and said, "Don't flatter yourself."

"'Flatter'!" Ace laughed, because the comment was so inappropriate it tipped the scales into absurdity. "Ah, you're one of them, are you? You think women should be grateful for the attention when a man tries to sexually assault them."

He shook his head and muttered, "Humans."

"Wow. Sexist _and_ racist. Or species-ist, anyway. Still, isn't like I should expect better from the walking, talking dictionary-definition of Cultural Appropriation. What are you s'posed to be? Some kind of Buddhist priest?"

Mortimus frowned. "Taoist, actually."

"Oh yeah? Christopher Lee was less embarrassing in those Fu Manchu movies. At least he _knew_ it was just pretend."

"Oh, for–" Mortimus looked outraged for a moment, then he said to the guard, "You know what? Just shoot her."

The guard raised his rifle obediently. That earlier moment of clarity had passed, however. Ace had a scant second to work out that her temper might have made her push too far, when something green and shiny flew out of the open doorway of the reception room and caught the guard on the head. The guard stumbled, the rifle swung and the shot fired harmlessly into the ceiling. The missile – which turned out to be Cai's half-finished bottle of water – dropped to the wooden floor without smashing, and it was followed up by a blur of something small, dark and fast. Li barrelled out of the reception room, and with an efficient sequence of kicks and hand-strikes she knocked the guard off his feet, even as he was desperately trying to reload his rifle.

Once the guard was out, Li turned to look at her, concern and anger in her expression. Perhaps she'd heard the bit about Mortimus feeling her up. Ace was about to point out to Li that they had by no means won yet, when:

Click-clack.

She looked beyond Li to see Mortimus pointing Cai's sleek semi-automatic at Li's head.

"No!" Ace cried.

Mortimus smiled viciously, and his trigger-finger tightened, and Ace realised that he intended to shoot Li Renxiang in the head out of pure annoyance.

"My key!" she blurted.

Mortimus hesitated, then arched an interested eyebrow at her. Li stood there, staring wide-eyed at Ace.

"Come on, you don't care if she lives or dies," Ace went on. "You only care about your plans. So she lives, and I help you. That's the deal."

"I'm not sure I need your 'help', dear," Mortimus drawled.

"Five days!" she said, keeping an eye on that pistol. "And the Doctor's given you exactly nothing. You've had Cai looking for me, but I found her first. Seriously, you want to keep winging this?"

Mortimus tightened his lips in displeasure, but after a moment he lifted the gun to point upwards. He could still aim and shoot in a cold second, but the gesture showed he was willing to discuss.

Good.

Ace added, "And by the way, I'm not your 'dear', and a twenty year old woman is not a 'girl'. Does Cai never pick you up on this antiquated shit you talk?"

Mortimus rolled his eyes. "You know, I much preferred it when the Doctor chose to travel with pre-emancipation females. Now let's all try to remember that I am holding a gun, and I can see from your friend's stance that she's thinking about spinning around and attacking, so it might be as well for you to explain that this is a terrible idea."

Ace wet her lips and then nodded at Li. "You can't win this one," she murmured. "And Wenling needs you."

"There's a dear," Mortimus said with a smirk. "Now, this 'help'...?"

"God, give me a chance to get up, will you? Fuck's sake."

Ace reached an arm up to Li, and was quite surprised when Mortimus didn't object. Indeed, Mortimus was happy to use the pause to walk backwards to the house's front door, pull it open and shout something over his shoulder. When he returned, he was accompanied by Yet Another Guard, who took up a position close to the front door with his rifle cradled in his hands. The newcomer looked vaguely disbelieving when he saw the unconscious body of his colleague on the floor. As far as Ace could work out, the score was now three-nil to Li Renxiang, assuming she'd dispatched the guard at the harbour office as well, and one-one to Ace, who'd dealt with Cai but then come a cropper at the wrong end of a Taser.

For now, however, Ace was mostly concerned with getting Li further from the barrel of Mortimus's firearm. She was hoping that he wasn't exactly a crack-shot with his companion's weapon of choice. While Mortimus was organising his back-up, Li helped pull her to her feet, then propped her up against the wall of the hallway. Ace checked the dress she wore; it was a relief to note that she seemed semi-decent still.

Best of all: she'd managed to palm one marble of Nine-A from where it had been discarded on the floor alongside the other contents of her pouches. She'd had only seconds, so she hadn't been able to do more than grab the closest one she could see. It was her largest charge. That was fine; she wasn't feeling particularly subtle right now. She held it, loosely cupped in her hidden left hand.

"The girl steps over there and keeps her hands where I can see them," Mortimus said, indicating with his gun.

Ace nodded to Li. Li moved to the other side of the narrow hall and held her hands away from her body.

"So you want in to the Doctor's TARDIS," Ace said.

Mortimus shrugged. "How nicely deduced. All it took was recognising the obvious."

"But you've got a ship of your own," she pressed.

"Obviously. Oh – you're worried I want to steal that decrepit old thing. Never fear, _dear_. The Doctor owes me a navigational circuit, nothing more."

Ace bristled with the insult to the blue box that was her home, but she'd noticed by that point that Mortimus enjoyed winding her up far too much, and she needed to stop making it so easy. "A navigational circuit?" she said, trying to sound confused.

"That's right."

He must mean the module that formed the interface between the console's navigation panel and the supercomputer that linked all the systems of the ship. Without that module, steering the TARDIS to any given time and place would be haphazard, even for someone capable of calculating multi-dimensional mathematical coordinates in their head and then bodging up a direct means of input into the TARDIS core.

It explained Mortimus's slightly-too-late arrival in this timeframe, of course.

Ace looked blankly at Mortimus and said, "Sounds complicated."

"It's a mere trifle. Easily replaced. The Doctor's probably got a dozen spares, sitting on some dusty old supply closet shelf. I'll need no more than a minute."

The man thought she was an idiot. Good. She wanted to keep it that way.

"If the Doctor's TARDIS is so decrepit, why do you want a bit of it?" she asked.

Mortimus was getting impatient. "Because TARDIS parts aren't easy to come by, outside of Gallifrey! And the High Council was really unpleasant to me, last time I showed one of my faces there." He shook his head. "Even an obsolete part from a jury-rigged rust-bucket like that ridiculous police box is worth something to me. Be glad of the fact that you have something to bargain with, and let's leave it at that."

"Fine. But as old and knackered as you think it is, the Doctor's TARDIS is hard to get into," Ace said. "You must know that. Even if you managed to get hold of the Doctor's key, it won't have been any use to you."

Mortimus hesitated, frowning. Then he did an eye-roll. "Of course, yes, the metabolism detector," he mused. "I'd forgotten that about the old Type-40s."

Ace was collating information as she conversed with this Time Lord. For instance, he'd just told her that he hadn't managed to obtain the Doctor's key. This was useful because it meant that if Ace ended up dead on this island, the Doctor could still get into his ship and escape. She stored the data alongside the other things she'd been gathering.

"I don't care what it's called," Ace lied. "I just know that if someone nicks our keys they won't work."

"I'm astonished the system remains functional. He still hasn't managed to fix the chameleon circuit, after all."

"The what?" Ace wondered whether she was overplaying the 'I'm stupid and don't understand' card, but Mortimus wasn't yet squinting at her suspiciously.

"The thing that makes it change shape on the outside," he said condescendingly.

"It doesn't change shape on the outside. It's a blue box."

"Exactly."

"Oh. Well – maybe he likes the ship that way," Ace suggested.

"No, dear. He can't repair it, so he _pretends_ he likes it that way. He's been the same since he was a fresh-faced student at the Prydonian Academy. Your Doctor is never more talented than when he's covering for his own shortcomings."

"Blah, blah, sticks and stones," Ace said. "At least he's intelligent enough not to screw with history. Cai told me you're planning to change it all."

"History," Mortimus declared, "is a flexible, adaptable thing. The timelines can take a touch of re-jigging, never mind what those spineless bureaucrats on Gallifrey say."

"Why screw with history at all?"

Mortimus smirked. "As if the Doctor doesn't do exactly the same thing."

"Not what I asked."

"Because it's fun! One has to keep the ennui of existence at bay somehow."

"So that's what you live for, is it?" she asked. "All those regenerations, time and space laid out before you, and you just want to go around poking things with sticks to see if they squeal?"

Mortimus narrowed his eyes. "Well, you put it like that and it sounds rather tawdry. But aren't we getting off-track, here? You mentioned a key?"

Ace straightened her shoulders. "I also mentioned the safety of my friends."

"Yes, yes, I remember. I give my word that they will not be harmed so long as you remain helpful."

"How good is your word?" Ace said. As if she hadn't got that figured out.

"Oh, terrible, but what other offer are you going to get?" He glanced at the firearm in his hand, then nodded towards Li. "I'd choose quickly. If I get bored and shoot this one, I'm assuming the health and well-being of the young man and the child might still provide some motivation?"

Ace looked at the Time Lord for a moment, then drew a deep breath. Her chest twinged, but her other hurts could be ignored for now: all but the headache at her temple which throbbed hard. She'd bought herself enough time to formulate a plan, and to work at each muscle in her legs and arms until the pins and needles had eased. It was the best she could manage.

"I've got a key of my own," she said, because there was nothing to be gained from procrastinating.

"So you said," Mortimus agreed. "Being the Doctor's trusted if rather mouthy little assistant."

Ace just rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately for you, you need me right along with it."

"Yes, dear, I had managed to grasp that point."

Ace nodded. "Which is why we're going to escort my friends back to the harbour, and you're going to put them on a barge, and give your minions clear instructions that they are to be delivered safely back to Shanghai. You're going to do this in my presence, and only once the barge is underway am I going to help you." She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye defiantly, pretending to await his agreement.

"Oh, my dear. There's no denying your nerve, is there? But it won't happen like that, because I'm not stupid. Your friends appear to be the best option I have for...encouraging you. I'm not giving them up. So!" He glanced behind himself and nodded at his guard. "Go and fetch the others." The guard made for the reception room. Mortimus smiled at Ace. "We've got a police box to open."

Ace held in her sigh of relief. Reverse psychology. She’d yet to meet the supervillain it didn’t work on.

The plan was underway.

~~~

Behind the house there was a cleared area cut into the woodland. Stacks of materials were present in uniform rows, some in sacks, some on wooden pallets, some in crates. Paths had been created between them, as though it was some kind of outdoor warehouse. Most of the stored items were covered with tarpaulins.

Close to the house, at the near end of one such pathway, stood an unassuming blue box. Ace's chest felt briefly constricted as she gazed upon her home for the first time in days.

Her key, retrieved from her sock, was in her right hand. The marble of Nine-A she'd snatched from the floor in the house was back in its pouch for now: she'd managed to pocket it while faffing about with her footwear. Her stun-gun remained somewhere in the house. If her plan worked, she wouldn't need it. It was, however, reassuring to know that she retained the option to create a massive distraction and yell 'Run!'

"Go on, then," Mortimus said. "I'm not good at impatience, and – look!" He waved Cai's handgun in her general direction. "I'm still holding one of the ballistic weapons that humanity invests so much time in perfecting."

Ace turned from the TARDIS. She looked coldly at Mortimus, drawing out the glare for long seconds before she said, "What goes bang-thump-bang-thump-bang-thump-bang-thump?"

Mortimus looked confused, then shrugged and said, "What?"

"Time Lord committing suicide."

Ace held his gaze a moment longer, then turned to the TARDIS. She placed the flat of her left hand on the panel of the door. "Hi," she whispered. Behind her, Mortimus finally reacted to the joke with an irritated tut, but she felt like she'd made her point: even Time Lords eventually faced the final curtain.

She inserted her key, closed her eyes and silently told the TARDIS that if this didn't work then she was really, really sorry. Then she turned the key and opened the door.

"Renxiang. Mr Tian," she said quietly. "Please prepare yourselves for something a bit strange. Don't be frightened. This craft is my home."

She pocketed her key again and went inside. Slipping through the narrow outside door while wearing a crinoline required some work, but she side-stepped her way through. Mortimus was right behind her, eager for victory. The guard would stay behind the rest of her friends. Mortimus wasn't going to risk losing them just yet, not when he thought they were the best way he had to manipulate her.

Yes. Manipulation. That was what this came down to. If Mortimus was exactly as he'd presented himself in the hallway of the house – arrogant, dismissive, presumptuous, careless – then Ace's plan would work. But if he'd been playing a role, encouraging her to make incorrect assessments, keeping his true self hidden...

It was possible. That was what the Doctor would have done: make a false impression, offer up any number of apparent weaknesses to be exploited, wait for that moment when the assumptions he'd encouraged could be used against his enemies.

Did Mortimus play chess to the same level of expertise as the Doctor? Ace knew she was about to find out.

The console room was bright and welcoming. She put her second thoughts aside, since she'd now committed to this plan. Turning, she waited for her friends to work through their amazement at the TARDIS interior while she watched Mortimus carefully. If he'd anticipated the obstacle to his success that Ace was now relying upon, the first thing he'd do would be to neutralise it. To do that, he'd try to access the ship's security systems on the far side of the hexagonal console. If, alternatively, he had not been dissembling when he'd slandered the Doctor's TARDIS, scorned it as outmoded, ill-maintained and semi-functional, then he wouldn't care about the security systems and would go straight to navigation in order to claim his prize.

Ace looked at her friends. Tian held the baby, though Li hovered close by. It made sense, of course, that between the two of them Li should be the one who could respond to a threat without worrying about handing off a snoozing twelve-month-old. Mortimus hadn't argued the toss. Perhaps he'd assumed Tian was the baby's father. More likely he didn't care. The guard, who had spent long seconds looking around in discomfort as he encountered dimensional transcendentalism for the very first time, was now back to keeping his rifle levelled at her. Good. If this thing didn't work then she'd rather any stray shots were aimed at her.

Mortimus moved around the console only as far as the navigation panel, where he stopped and scrutinised the controls.

Ace exhaled her relief as quietly as she could, then said, "Mr Tian, please make yourself comfortable on the sofa over there. Wenling must be getting heavy."

Mortimus looked up, considering the suggestion. His gun hand lifted menacingly. Seeing this, Ace did not feel menaced in the slightest; in fact, she wanted to laugh with giddy relief.

Because she was now quite sure that Mortimus had forgotten about the Type-40's state of temporal grace.

Still, there was no point in playing her cards too soon. She raised her eyebrows at Mortimus and said, "You're going to need to fish this technical whatsit out on your own, I'm afraid. Thought you'd want my friends out of the way while you do it." Pushing, she added, "You can probably put the gun down for now."

Mortimus glared at her suspiciously, then said, "I'll keep the gun, thank you." He waved it at Tian and Li, indicating that they go over to the seating in the corner. Then he looked pointedly at his guard, and nodded at Ace. The guard checked his chambered cartridge and then aimed the rifle at her, trying to intimidate.

But the TARDIS's state of temporal grace made a nonsense of firearms within the ship's interior. Ace had learned about this safety feature early on, when she'd been less adept at crafting her homemade explosives. Temporal grace had saved her sixteen year old self from some very nasty burns and the possible loss of a finger or two. The Doctor had explained that the system was linked to the telepathic circuits, and how it would, in theory, neutralise any acts of violence within the interior dimensions of the craft. He'd also lectured her long and hard about how she should never ever rely on this particular safety net, but should instead establish proper safeguards of her own while she worked.

Hopefully he'd forgive her for relying on temporal grace now.

Assured that Ace was covered, Mortimus looked at his guard. "Shoot the girl if the two behind me make so much as a single move." Because of course, he thought he didn't need Ace any longer. He'd gained access to the TARDIS. Now he was inside, he could reprogram her key to respond to his own biometrics. Mortimus thought he'd already won.

Tian sat down, shifting Wenling into a position on his knee. Li spent a moment fussing over her, before she turned and looked at Ace, waiting for a sign that something was to be done.

Mortimus dropped down to a crouch and began to search for the release clips that would allow him access to the underside of the console panel. After a few seconds he harrumphed in annoyance and acknowledged that he would have to put Cai's pistol down, since he needed both hands.

Now or never, Ace figured.

"Renxiang," she said, "do you trust me?"

Li looked her in the eye and nodded. Ace smiled, pouring all her warmth and gratitude and loyalty into it. Meeting Li Renxiang on that frightening evening of pursuit and assault was one of the best things that had happened to her. Li smiled back.

Mortimus said, "Shut up," distractedly, as he groped about in what was clearly an unfamiliar console design.

Ace pointed at Mortimus and said, "Please incapacitate that man."

Li blinked, glanced at the guard then back at Ace. Ace nodded. Li hesitated no longer. Even as Mortimus had processed Ace's instruction and was turning to reach for his firearm, Li crossed the distance between them and kicked out. She caught Mortimus under his jaw, putting him flat on his back, then she knocked the pistol far away with a toe and followed up with a strike to his temple.

The guard hadn't even paused to watch. He'd fired his rifle the moment Li had moved towards Mortimus, and was now frantically trying to work out why his fully loaded weapon had somehow jammed. Ace stepped closer, grabbed the barrel of the rifle and yanked hard, just like Li had done with the guard in the reception room. The man staggered but wouldn't let go. It occurred to her that sometimes guns could become a little too convenient. Perhaps the Doctor's distaste for them wasn't just a measure of his oddly hypocritical approach to weapons – handgun bad, planet-buster fine – but was in fact an awareness that the more you came to rely on one method of coercion, the more likely it was that you'd be thwarted.

Either way, while the guard staggered and tried to recover his balance, Ace – still bedecked in all that flouncy Victorian finery – reminded herself that team-villain liked to threaten babies and torture her best friend. She infused her right arm with every scrap of fury she could muster, angled her hand and then _jabbed_ into the soft tissue of the guard's throat. She connected perfectly. Distantly she heard herself roaring with anger.

The guard fell to the floor as though poleaxed. Annoyingly, he was stunned and choking, but not unconscious. Li had already skipped around the console, however, and with a tap to the guard's temple she sorted him out.

For a few seconds, the silence was punctuated only by the sounds of Ace's rasping breaths.

Then:

"Sorted!" Ace said. She went to the console and activated the lever that closed the door; there was no point in inviting any more back-up inside. "Hi, guys!" she said to her friends. "Thanks for rescuing me. How's the little one doing?"

Tian glanced down at Wenling, who had woken up thanks to the ruckus that had just taken place. Wenling looked up at him, screwed up her face and then wailed her dissatisfaction.

Li scampered back to the seating area and took the baby from Tian. She began to mutter and then sing, too softly for Ace to hear the words.

Ace shrugged. "Right. Yeah, sorry, titch. Got a bit annoyed there. Now. Cable-ties. Cable-ties." She looked around at the console room, then went to the roundel behind which she stowed her toolkit. By the time she'd retrieved a bundle of heavy-duty cable-ties, Li's voice had distracted Wenling enough that the child had decided not to wail any longer. (Thankfully. Baby-wailing was bad noise, especially when your head pounded.)

Ace went to Mortimus first. Time Lords could be knocked unconscious as readily as most life-forms, or at least the ones that didn't have an exoskeleton or bonded polycarbide armour to protect them, but Time Lords also came to a lot faster than humans. She flipped him over onto his front, tightly bound his wrists behind his back, added a tie around his ankles, then grabbed him under the shoulders and dragged him over to a corner far from the console, where even if he managed to get a hand free he couldn't do any damage. Once she was sure of his incapacitation, she did the same thing to the guard. She dumped him in the diagonally opposite corner, such that the console stood between her two prisoners and they could not see each other.

Next job: getting some sensible clothes.

"You guys okay here for a few minutes?" she asked. "I need to change."

Li and Tian looked at each other.

Li said, "How did you know the rifle would fail?"

"Because we're in the TARDIS," Ace said. "That's the name of this ship. My home. And weapons don't work here." She grinned. "Seems like Mortimus forgot about that."

"Are we safe here?" Li asked.

"About as safe as it's possible to be. No one can come through that door except my friend, the Doctor. Not that he's likely to, since he's imprisoned somewhere on this island – but that's a job for after I've found something sensible to wear."

"What about him?" Li pressed, indicating the unconscious Mortimus.

"He's unarmed. But he's still dangerous. If he comes to while I'm gone, here's the basics. Don't look him in the eye – Time Lords can do some serious shit to you if you let them do that. Don't let him manipulate you either – he's a consummate liar. And most important of all – don't touch him. Never mind what he says. All right?"

Li nodded. She didn't ask for any further information, though perhaps the interior of the TARDIS had already convinced her that there were things going on right now that would take far too long to explain.

Ace looked at Wenling. "Does the little titch need anything?" She searched her memories for any knowledge about babies. "Um – milk, formula, nappies, whatever? I mean, I can have a rummage for you, see if there's anything...?"

Li looked disconcerted. "I don't know," she said helplessly. Of course, Li was in-at-the-deep-end with this as much as anyone.

Tian said, "She'll have been fed before being laid down to sleep, earlier this evening. She's past the age of needing feeds in the night. She will need clean cloths eventually, but she will be used to being changed with the morning. At present, the thing she needs most is an undisturbed place to sleep."

Ace blinked at Tian. Li looked at him with a sort of wonder.

He shrugged. "I had a small sister."

"Okay," Ace said. "A cot. Fine. Might need to improvise something." She nodded at her friends. "I'll be as quick as I can."

~~~

Ace wore dark denims, a long-sleeved black T-shirt and a heavy cotton shirt over the top. She placed the marble of Nine-A she'd retrieved from the hallway of Mortimus's house in her shirt's breast pocket, and grabbed a couple of smaller charges from her stash to go along with it. Her combat knife was holstered at her belt on her right hand side. On the left, she'd clipped a small, powerful torch. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she'd found a close-fitting black woollen hat.

Taking two minutes to brush her teeth had felt wonderful; toothpaste was a hard thing to function without. Her face had looked pretty roughed-up, staring back at her from the bathroom mirror. There was a bloodied graze on her right temple where her head had smacked against the floorboards when she'd been shot with the Taser. She'd cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe, but the bruised bump around it was already swelling to egg-like proportions.

She hadn't been able to check the burns on her back where the Taser wires had bitten into her, but they were sore when cloth moved against them. Such superficial injuries could be saved for later, however.

She'd found a canvas bag with a long strap that she could wear diagonally across her chest. A quick visit to the medical bay allowed her to collect a couple of items that could aid in reviving the Doctor: a folded thermal blanket, and a hypo-jet syringe containing the medical cocktail that was standard treatment when bringing a Gallifreyan out of a self-induced healing coma. Ace also necked a dose of painkiller for her headache.

Then she went to the wardrobe room and looked for something she could turn into a cot.

When she returned to the console room, she was pleased to note that Tian and Li remained safe and sound, and her two captives remained unconscious. She dragged behind herself a wicker storage basket that seemed vaguely Wenling-sized. She'd emptied out the large selection of berets that were inside and lined it instead with pillows and clean linen. Ace was pretty sure she was breaking any number of child-safety guidelines in providing this makeshift bed for the little one, but needs must. It wasn't as if Wenling was going to be left unattended.

"How we doing?" she asked.

"All is well," Tian said, after taking a moment to stare at her new outfit.

Ace tugged the temporary crib into place. "Excellent! Okay then." She leaned over the basket to adjust its padded lining, then stood back. "Um – will it do? I'm not experienced when it comes to tots."

Tian looked it over critically. "I don't think she will be able to hurt herself on this," he decided. "It's fine."

"Great." Ace grabbed a loose pillowcase she'd brought along and carried it over to where Mortimus slumped in the corner. She shook the case out and placed it over the Time Lord's head like a hood, then she trapped the material in place with an additional cable-tie around the neck, not quite tight enough to restrict his breathing. "There," she said. "Hypnotise through that, arsewipe."

She considered what else she should do before leaving, then went to a roundel in the wall and retrieved two bottles of water which she brought to the seating area.

"Sorry I don't have time to offer tea and biccies," she told her friends. "What else? Oh – toilet! Yes, you need to know where..." Ace pointed to the internal door that led further into the ship. "Out that door, first door on the left. It might look a bit different to what you're used to, but it's definitely a toilet. You're both bright. You'll figure it out. There's clean towels in there, too, and loo-roll, and stuff. In case of, you know, baby-style mess."

"We will manage," Tian told her.

"Good. Well, you get her settled. I need to check a few things at the console."

She made her way over to the systems panel and flicked the switch which caused a screen and keyboard to rise. A few commands later and the ship's scanners had conjured for her a map of the entire island, complete with pointers for man-made structures and heat signatures. She frowned as she studied the terrain. The island was larger than she'd thought, and by some margin.

Fortunately, she wouldn't have to search it all. Just as she wore an earring that provided a direct connection to the TARDIS, so the Doctor now wore a special button on his waistcoat that did the same. He'd adopted this habit after their adventure in Kent, when he'd needed to use Ace's earring to remotely interface with the TARDIS systems.

The TARDIS located the Doctor's button without difficulty. To Ace's disappointment, the house just outside the ship was not where the Doctor's signal originated. Instead he was located at a large structure further to the southeast, a smidge over thirteen kilometres distant.

Ace remembered her dream, and those industrial sounds and smells. She suspected that Mortimus had locked the Doctor up in one of his refineries or factories. Making use of sturdier structures, maybe? Although now she thought about it, it sort of made sense to keep the Doctor and the TARDIS separated. From a supervillain point of view, anyway.

Okay, so she needed to cover some ground. Doing so on foot in the dark was going to take hours. She couldn't imagine that Mortimus or Cai relied on their own two feet to get about, though; not when they were happy to nick twentieth century speedboats. There'd be a buggy or a hovercar or something nearby. She just had to find it.

She typed in a few more commands, asking the scanners to look for traces of petrochemicals. In 1844, she was pretty sure that they wouldn't be clogging the whole atmosphere like they did in her original timeframe. The scanners showed a huge cloud of hydrocarbons around most of the larger structures to the southeast, along with small blooms at the harbour and at the side of the house outside.

Side of the house. Bit like a garage?

Ace memorised the map as best she could, then patted the console in thanks and turned away. She went back to her friends, to see Li kneeling over the improvised cradle and coo-ing to her daughter.

"I have to go," she said. "I'll try to get back as soon as I can. Don't open the door, not for anyone."

Tian gave her a half-smile and glanced at the massive roundel-ed doors. "I wouldn't know how."

"Fair point."

She grinned and went to the monitor which displayed a feed from the external cameras. Last time she'd looked at this screen, she'd seen an impoverished Shanghai neighbourhood. It seemed sensible to check whether Cai or any of the guards had woken up. Ace peered at the image of the backyard, then she switched to other angles. She even activated infrared in case someone was hiding behind the stacks of stored materials. It was all clear.

"Okay, then. I'm off. Wish me luck!" Ace went to the console and pulled the lever for the doors.

Li stepped up beside her. "I should come too," she said.

Ace hesitated. God, but it was tempting. In all the scrapes she'd known in the last five days, Li had been her consistent rescuer. But Ace couldn't let herself be selfish about this.

So she shook her head. "Tonight you've had guns held to your head, you've had Zhu mauling you about, you've been threatened over and over. You've put your shift in, and then some, my friend. Now, you need to stay safe. You need to be here, 'cause that little girl over there should be allowed to get to know the mum who moved heaven and earth to find her."

Li looked at Wenling, clearly torn.

"Also?" Ace said. "When the bad guy in the corner wakes up, I need to know there's two of you here to keep each other safe. Otherwise I can't leave at all." She closed her eyes briefly. "And I really, _really_ need to leave, because my best friend is somewhere on this island, and he needs me to find him."

Li nodded her agreement, touched Ace's arm in a gesture of mute support, then returned to the seating area.

Ace left the TARDIS. She checked the door was closed and locked behind herself. Her key was safely pocketed in her jeans. She slipped the woollen hat over her hair and looked around, before moving over to the back door. First things first: she wanted to try to retrieve her stun-gun.

She heard voices as soon as she'd cracked the door. Male voices. It was probably a little bit soon for Cai to be waking up, but the guards that Li had shut down had apparently managed to stir at some point in the last half hour. Ace considered her current weapons: a high-tech knife and a few charges of Nine-A. She could organise a distraction and send the guards chasing off into the night, no problem, but why waste the explosives now when she might need them later? For the time being, discretion was the better part of valour.

So she closed the door and picked her way around the side of the building, to the place where the scanner had shown traces of exhaust fumes. There she found a lean-to shelter constructed alongside the house. It contained shelving, tools, tins of oil, some WD-40, a long row of jerry cans filled with what smelled like petrol, and all kinds of other anachronisms. It also contained something bike-shaped under a tarpaulin.

"Now you're talking," Ace whispered. She went to pull the tarp off, envisaging the motorcycle beneath: maybe a Kawasaki Z1, like Julian's dad had owned, or something classic like a Triumph Thunderbird...

It was a Honda. She knew it, even in the semi-darkness broken only by the light spilling out from an upstairs window. She recognised the shape. Her mum's elderly next door neighbour, Mr Hughes, had owned one. A Honda Cub C50 scooter, with a whole 49cc of power to its engine.

"Great," she muttered. "My ride's a fucking hairdryer."

~~~


	8. Chapter 8

_Changxing Island_   
_15th April 1844_   
_11:03 pm_

On the plus side, Ace wasn't driving the scooter down the Ealing Road. There was no need to worry about someone recognising her and catcalling their derision at her choice of wheels. On the other hand, Changxing Island was populated with people who would happily point guns at her, and the Honda C50's two-stroke engine made quite the puttery racket.

Ace would have preferred a nice, quiet anti-grav hovercar. Or, given the fact that it had started to bloody well rain, anything with a roof. She was stuck with this heap-of-shit scooter, however. At some point in the very near future she was going to have to speak to the Doctor about pursuing a better class of villain.

She had miles to go, though, and the Honda was a better option than her feet. After checking the tank and re-familiarising herself with the controls – and offering a silent thank-you to Mr Hughes next door, who'd given her a lesson on his C50 when she'd been wondering whether she could save enough money from her part-time job at the local Sainsbury's to get a moped – she tossed a leg over the seat, knocked the kickstand out the way and free-wheeled the bike away from the house.

She paused as the path opened out into the settlement. It was quiet; the rain, along with the lateness of the hour, had driven most of the men inside. A couple of the fire pits offered glowing embers, and the odd solitary figure sat, hunched in their clothing, staring into dying flames.

Ace considered her options. She could wheel through the village, showing some respect to its sleeping residents. The only men who'd notice her were the ones still awake, but she'd be going slowly, and if they objected to her presence then she'd struggle to make any kind of escape. Alternatively, she could turn on the ignition and motor through at whatever speed the C50 could manage. Outrun the opposition.

The men here had probably seen this scooter before. And they'd probably seen Cai riding it, since it didn't strike Ace as a mode of transport Mortimus, in his fake-priest garb, would choose. Perhaps she didn't need to worry about these locals noticing the scooter: not when it was being driven by a female wearing strange clothing. It was dark, after all. There was little in the way of moonlight, and Mortimus hadn't provided the village with an electrical power supply.

Ace decided that in these circumstances she could be mistaken for Cai. People usually saw what they expected. And if Cai took off on her scooter for a night-time jaunt about the island, Ace doubted she'd be considerate when puttering through the village.

Ace checked the choke, turned the ignition key, then kicked the scooter into life. The engine started first time. She pulled her black hat down as far as it could go without covering her eyes, put the bike into gear and gave it some power. It moved off, juddered a bit as she navigated the gravel path, then smoothed out.

The noise felt deafening, but she did her best to concentrate on driving. When she geared up it was clumsy, but her coordination was returning. She'd always felt at home on two wheels.

She was through the village before she even thought to check whether the locals had reacted to her presence, so focused was she on keeping the scooter steady. She made it back to the track she thought of as 'Harbour Road', then turned right, moving away from the harbour in a north-easterly direction. Thanks to the TARDIS scanners she had a mental picture of the island. She was looking for another right turn, preferably a track that looked well-travelled. There had to be a route that connected the harbour with the industrial structures to the southeast.

Just over two minutes at a steady fifteen miles an hour, and Ace found her junction. She geared down and turned right. The gravelled track was wide and flat. Since leaving the village, she had seen nobody wandering about. She wondered whether the industrial sites at the seaward end of the island would have security patrols. Maybe not. Who, after all, would be interested in breaking in?

She geared up as the road stretched out before her in the beam from the scooter's headlight. The terrain was flat and straight, enough for her to give the throttle some welly, and she was soon cruising at a steady thirty: less than breathtaking on paper, but on an unfamiliar track, late at night, Ace had to admit that it was fast enough.

The rain was getting heavier. Ace began to regret her choice of a cotton shirt rather than a waterproof. Still, at least the weather might keep curious islanders indoors.

For several minutes she saw nothing on either side of the track except trees and undergrowth, before a junction appeared up ahead. She cut her speed. There was a new track off to the left that would likely lead to the northern coast of the island, perhaps to a second harbour. It wasn't the right direction for the signal from the Doctor's waistcoat button, though, so she pressed on. Soon, more junctions appeared. Up to her right, she noted what looked like firelight: possibly another settlement for workers. Given the size of the island and the scope of Mortimus's projects, it made sense that there'd be hundreds of men working here.

When the scooter's milometer ticked over to indicate that she'd been heading southeast for eight miles, Ace braked and puttered to a stop. She looked around. Not far ahead, the track seemed to open out to a wide, gravelled space that could potentially accommodate numerous vehicles. She noted no movement, but there were lights visible at the edge of her field of vision.

Should she leave the scooter here and progress on foot?

No. She had no idea what shape the Doctor was in; she wanted to keep her getaway ride close by. She gave the scooter some throttle and drove into the open area. Several smaller tracks led away from it, making it a hub of sorts. She could see standing electric lights at a few of the junctions, some of which illuminated the edges of utilitarian structures beyond. A strong smell pervaded the air, of coal-fires and metal. This was the industrial heartland of Changxing Island.

Ace turned left and began to follow the perimeter of the open area, counting junctions. The map on the console had shown seven square-shaped buildings clustered at this end of the island, and the signal from the Doctor's button had been closest to the central one. As she tried to translate what she could see to what she recalled from the map, a voice hailed her. Her heart rate spiked, and she had to admonish herself not to speed up, instead forcing herself to look around. She steered into the next junction. There was a small cabin beside the pool of light offered by a standing lamp, and she could see a man heading away from it, towards her.

A site that was actually guarded. Interesting. Almost clue-like.

Ace wheeled closer. She kept out of the lit area. The man called over the sound of the scooter's engine, "Everything all right, Miss Cai?"

She didn't stop, but she shouted, "Stowaway, on one of the barges. Watch the main track."

Ace drove towards the structure behind him, wondering whether the rain and the darkness had done enough to disguise her. Glancing in the scooter's wing mirror, she saw the man raising a hand in acknowledgement as he made for his cabin. She kept going, because another standing light was visible up ahead, marking the entrance to the industrial complex.

On the right side of the path she passed a large metal shipping container. Surprised, she stopped alongside it. How the hell had that got there? It looked twentieth-century modern, the type you'd see on massive freight ships, or trailing after diesel locomotives on the railways. It was the kind of thing you needed a fuck-off big crane to move about.

She looked around. Some distance behind her, the man emerged from his cabin again, this time carrying a lantern. He walked off towards the open area, apparently following her instruction to check the track. No one else was about. Ace moved the scooter towards the main building's entrance, then turned it around before cutting the engine and nudging the kickstand into place. She hopped off, then walked back to the shipping container.

It was an anomaly. She had learned to pay attention to such things. The hinged doors of the container were bolted closed. There was no shipping company logo on the side of the thing. There was no label on it. It was thoroughly anonymous.

Then she put her hand against the metal, and she worked it out. She'd found Mortimus's TARDIS.

The thrum was unmistakable, attuned as she was to the presence of artron energy. She felt a burst of righteous indignation; how dare Mortimus sneer over the non-functioning chameleon circuit in the Doctor's TARDIS when his own ship made no effort to blend in with its surroundings! It took her a few seconds before she realised this was a deliberate choice. In locking the external shape of his TARDIS into something functional like a shipping container, Mortimus had created a way to steal large items with relative ease. A touch of reconfiguration in the internal layout, such that the doors led into a holding area rather than the console room, and you could wheel in anything that fit through the container's doors. Including, of course, a speedboat.

The industrial units probably needed some supplies that weren't obtainable in 1844. Mortimus's TARDIS was here because it was the main source of deliveries. Ace nodded, pleased that she'd figured a bit more of the puzzle out. She turned away and walked over to the building.

She had a best friend to rescue.

~~~

A few minutes into her exploration of the structure, Ace had to take off her shirt and tie it around her middle. The place was steaming hot, and smelled of metal and oil and dust.

She'd made her way through a linked series of rooms, one of which contained benches and coat hooks. There was also a room with a water trough at one end, although the heat had evaporated whatever had been left inside it at the end of the last shift. Washing and dressing facilities for the men who worked this sweat-box, Ace deduced.

The structure had a huge central section constructed from concrete, probably cast in one of the other industrial units. Even inside the concrete box, peering at a towering blast furnace surrounded by vessels and sluices and machinery, through dimness broken only by the beam of her torch, Ace saw no other person. She'd been surprised to note that Mortimus didn't have his workforce on day and night shifts. Cai had indicated they were on a deadline, given the aim to overthrow China's current regime before the next Opium War.

After searching the rest of the site, Ace gave up and returned to the entry rooms. She'd found nothing but storage areas, workshops and an annexe containing a diesel generator. There were no rooms that could have been makeshift prison cells. In any case, Ace remembered from her TARDIS-assisted dreams that the Doctor had felt cold rather than stiflingly hot. This building simply did not fit. There was nothing for it but to move on to another one.

On stepping outside, Ace was brought up short by an odd sensation. Her ear twinged. She frowned, then she reached up and touched her earring. It pulsed with a tiny burst of energy.

This was new.

"Something you're trying to tell me?" she said to the distant TARDIS, not really expecting an answer.

Pulse.

"Seriously? Okay then, one pulse for yes, two for no. How's that?"

Pulse.

Ace shook her head, incredulous but willing to accept any help she could get. "All right. Let's start here. Am I in the right place?"

Pulse.

Ace looked around and saw only the building behind her and the shipping container further ahead.

"That's Mortimus's TARDIS," she said.

Pulse.

"Is the Doctor inside?"

Pulse-pulse.

"Your scanners can penetrate that ship?"

Pulse-pulse.

"No they can't, but you know the Doctor is elsewhere?"

Pulse.

"Okay." She looked around. "Near here?"

Pulse.

"Right then. I'm going to take a few steps. If I'm getting warmer, one pulse. If I'm getting colder, two pulses. If there's no change, three. 'Kay?"

Pulse.

She paused to consider that she was having an actual conversation, in real time, with the TARDIS's telepathic circuits. Then she put the weirdness aside. There'd be time for a what-the-hell? moment later. She took three steps away from the main doors, then paused.

Pulse-pulse.

She returned to her original position, then went back inside the building.

Pulse-pulse.

Okay. She went outside again, and put her shirt back on. It was damp from the rain, but it was better than nothing. She considered. Forward was no good; backward was no good. So – sideways?

She followed the wall of the building along to her left.

Pulse.

Better. She got to the corner of the building where she'd parked the scooter, and kept going.

Pulse.

A few more steps, and she'd lost what little light there was from the entrance. She switched her torch on before she went further. The track that came down from the junction with the cabin seemed to run alongside the building, going back some distance. Ace had almost crossed it when:

Pulse-pulse.

She backed up, turned to her left and began to follow the side of the building.

Pulse.

She made her way cautiously along the track, hesitating every few steps until she received that confirmatory pulse. After about two minutes of this, the light from her torch picked out a new building: a single rectangular storey with a sloped roof, positioned on the opposite side of the track to the looming metalworks. Ace went up to it. The building was about eight metres by four, built from breeze-blocks and corrugated iron. It looked like a cheap outbuilding, rough but sturdy: the kind of structure where functionality superseded aesthetics. It would certainly make a better prison cell than a shack built from the plentiful local timber.

"In here?" she whispered to the ship.

Pulse.

Relief rushed through her. She walked around the building. There were no windows and just one locked door. She knocked.

"Professor?" she called as loudly as she dared.

There was no reply. She felt a surge of panic. What if the Doctor had been abandoned in there? What if he'd been denied water, sustenance? She hadn't seen him in her dreams last night. Did that mean the Doctor had been physically unable to connect with her?

The door was made from steel plates. It was fitted with a latch riveted to the door and bolted into the blocks of the wall, locked with a hefty titanium padlock. Ace sighed. Her knife was an exceptional bit of kit, but to cut through anything as robust as that lock or latch would take too long.

She needed another option. Fortunately, she had one.

From her shirt pocket, she drew out a micro-charge of Nine-A. She ignored the latch and instead examined the hinges of the door: steel, but nothing exceptional. She looked around and found a few loose breeze-blocks stacked behind the hut, left over from construction. Placing them beside the door gave her enough height to set her marble down close to the lower hinges.

Ace looked back down the track, checking for the guard. All she could see beyond the light of her own torch was the pouring rain. She'd have to risk it. She couldn't spare the time to come up with a plan that was more subtle.

"Doctor," she said at the door, "if you can hear me – I'm going to blow the hinges. Move away from the door if you can."

No reply. Still, it was all she could do to warn him.

She activated the marble then set it down. Counting out its fuse in her head, she scooted around the corner of the building and crouched. She didn't stick her fingers in her ears; there was no need. Her micro-charges were more refined than her aerosols used to be.

...two...one...

The building shook. The explosion was noticeable but hardly earth-shattering. It had made no more noise than, say, a roof panel blowing free and falling to the ground.

She waited, listening for voices, but nothing pierced the background drone of the rain. Risking a look around the corner and along the track, she could see no approaching lantern. Maybe the guard was still searching for the fake stowaway.

She returned to the door of the building and surveyed the damage she'd done. The lower hinges had blown free of their fixings, and the bottom of the door had buckled inwards with the force of the explosion. The door was still attached to its latch, and hung from its upper hinge. A more powerful charge would have ripped the whole thing clean off, but she couldn't have risked that when the Doctor was inside.

"Doctor?" she called in a stage-whisper through the triangular hole that the buckled door now offered. "Can you hear me?"

Still no response. She stuck her head through the hole and played the light from her torch around. Inside, all she could see was shelving, both along the walls and standing in rows down the length of the room. She needed to get in there, but the buckled corner was too narrow to accommodate her shoulders.

She stood up and pulled experimentally at the upper hinge. It jiggled then caught on something. After retrieving one of the spare breeze-blocks to stand on, she used her torch to examine the thing. The rivets attaching one side of the hinge to the steel panels of the door had been strained by the explosion, and only one remained connected. Ace fished out her knife and pried the remaining rivet free. She hopped down again and pressed her shoulder to the upper part of the door to try to push it clear of the frame on the hinge-side. It moved just enough. She'd made room to get through.

It took about twenty seconds of squirming, and cost her a deep scratch on the back of her hand from a sheared piece of steel plate, but she finally made it inside. She looked around. The nearest free-standing shelves had toppled with the blast and leaned against their neighbours. She scooted around them, moving further into the room.

"Doctor?" He still couldn't answer. Ace figured he was either unconscious or gagged; she was not prepared to consider a third option. She hurriedly made her way between shelves to the far end of the hut, desperate to see him. Her heart was racing with anticipation.

Only he wasn't here.

In a simple building of modest dimensions, it took less than a minute to search. The Doctor was not within. Perhaps she should look for a trapdoor. Just because she couldn't see him didn't mean that she wasn't more or less on top of him. They could have dug a basement. Ace went back to her search, sweeping the floor area, looking for a handle of some kind. It took longer, but after another search she still had nothing. The disappointment was crushing.

She touched her earring, closed her eyes. "He isn't here."

Pulse.

"No, I think you mean 'pulse-pulse' because he isn't bloody well here!" she spat, feeling angry and alone.

Pulse.

She sighed. "Fine. Guide me, then, like before." She took a step. "Better?" She was being sarcastic and hadn't expected a reply. However:

Pulse.

She took another step, then another, then another, then:

Pulse-pulse.

Ace stepped back and looked carefully at the spot she stood on. She was beside the same wall that the door was set into, so she moved one step away from it, deeper into the hut.

Pulse-pulse.

She moved back again. There was nothing on the floor, nothing set into the ceiling, just timber-built shelving on her immediate right hand side. And there was no fucking Time Lord there. Not even a miniaturised one.

"I don't understand," she growled, and sagged against the shelving.

Something glinted in the light from her torch.

She frowned. For the first time since entering the building, she took stock of what was being stored in here: guns. Revolvers, with steel-cast bodies and too many moving parts for 1844. And there were bolt-action rifles too, and some shells meant for larger artillery. There were boxes of cartridges and bullets: dozens of them, all set along the shelving that ran at shoulder-height. Ace looked down and saw other shelves below. She flicked her torch over them, expecting to see more of the same.

Instead she saw a pile of clothing that included a swatch of colourful fabric patterned with green and gold. Her breath caught. The material was unmistakable; she'd said rude things about that waistcoat, but the Doctor knew she preferred it to the old question-mark tank top. She bent down and pulled the pile from its shelf. It was all here: the Doctor's jacket with its paisley scarf, that waistcoat, his shirt and trousers. His brogues were there too, socks rolled up and stored within. There was even a pair of undies: stripy cotton boxers. All that was missing was his hat.

The TARDIS had been right: this was the source of the signal from the Doctor's button. Unfortunately, the Doctor had been separated from his clothes.

Ace crouched there, wondering what the hell she should try next. While she thought, she pulled open the flap of her canvas bag and transferred the bundle of clothing inside. It was a squeeze, but she got it all in there.

"No wonder he was cold," she muttered to herself.

Cold – yes! Could she go back to the TARDIS and use the scanners to pinpoint the coldest spots on the island?

This idea had just begun to form when there was an almighty crash. Ace looked up, startled, to see the door had been forced further inwards and something was squeezing through the gap. Ace had clicked off her torch and sprung to her feet by the time the guard with the lantern showed his face. He held a revolver in his free hand, and he looked like he was itching to use it.

"Show yourself!" he barked.

Ace would do nothing of the kind. She'd already moved to the back of the hut and was making for the opposite wall, where she'd be hidden from the door by the free-standing shelves. She moved as quietly as she could, her sounds masked by the way the guard stomped up to where Ace had found the Doctor's clothes. She crept back down towards the entrance. The doorway was only a few steps away, and she'd make it through the gap more quickly than the guard could manage. Could she barricade him in somehow? No, no time for that. She'd have to outrun him or knock him out, and if she got into a fight that she didn't win then the Doctor would be on his own.

She couldn't risk it. She had to run.

The guard was muttering to himself, sure he'd seen something but growing more doubtful. He began to walk back towards the door. Ace picked up a box of cartridges from a nearby shelf and tossed it to the corner behind her. The guard swore and turned back, making for the sound.

She peeked around the shelf, judged her timing and then made for the door. She'd side-stepped into the gap, pulling her bag behind her, when she heard, "Stop!" and the sound of a gunshot. Something brushed against her upper arm, but the sensation wasn't enough to stop her. Another gunshot. She made it past the buckled door. More shots. Damn it, the guard was far too trigger-happy.

Ace was already running back to where she'd left the scooter when the gunshots fired in the building seemed to trigger a medley of further shots. The guard cried out in alarm. As she glanced back, the inside of the building flickered with light beyond the buckled door.

Then there was silence. Ace sprinted for the Honda. She risked another look down the track before tossing a leg over the saddle. The guard had not come out of the building. She could only speculate that he'd managed to shoot one of the numerous boxes of ammunition, and had set up a chain reaction. Maybe caught a ricochet.

But she had her own problems. She fired up the scooter and accelerated away.

~~~

Two minutes into her return trip along the wide main track, with no other thought in her mind than revisiting the TARDIS scanners, Ace saw lights up ahead. Twin lights. An oncoming vehicle.

She reacted immediately and steered around a convenient right hand turn: the one she'd driven past earlier that could only lead to the island's northern shoreline. With no idea whether the oncoming vehicle had spotted her, she decided to make herself invisible as quickly as she could. She puttered down the track until she saw a space between the trees that lined it: one big enough to accommodate a scooter. Ace guided the bike off-road, turned off the headlight and cut the engine. She propped the scooter against a nearby tree trunk, as hidden from the track as she could make it. Then she moved away, further into the trees, keeping an eye on the track.

It had to be Cai in the vehicle. She'd had time to recover from the stun-gun blast. Ace could only imagine that Cai had rallied the troops. She'd be looking for Ace, checking important locations, keeping an eye out for the scooter that had gone missing. Or maybe the guard near the metalworks had raised an alarm before he'd decided on a game of Russian roulette with a storehouse full of ammunition.

Ace waited, hoping against hope that Cai would ignore the junction and continue down the main track to the industrial units. If that happened, Ace could head back to the house without fear of someone coming between herself and the TARDIS.

Over to Ace's right, bright headlights cut through the rainy darkness as the vehicle turned at the junction and approached down the side track.

She sighed. She'd been spotted. Cai would be looking for a place where someone on a scooter could hide, and it would take her less than a minute to spot the gap between the trees. No doubt she'd already loaded up on armed guards who would soon be scouring the woods. All Ace could do now was retreat on foot and try to circle back to the main track before the search parties were organised.

Oddly, however, the vehicle didn't slow. Ace was about to make her retreat when she noticed that the car – a small military-style jeep, with a boxy shape and rough-terrain wheels – was cruising along at speed, apparently unconcerned with looking for a bedraggled Londoner on a stolen scooter. The jeep sailed past her and moved off down the track. As it passed, Ace could see Cai sitting at the wheel within, peering through the windscreen into the rain-lashed beam of her headlights.

The taillights faded into the night. Cai wasn't looking for the scooter; she had other business along this track. Her priority at the moment had to be finding the woman who'd shot her with an energy weapon. Why did Cai think this location was worth checking?

"This is where you're keeping him, isn't it?" Ace murmured to herself. "You're leading me right to him."

She closed her eyes and called up her memory of the island's map. She knew she was still close to the eastern end, and much nearer to the northern coast than its opposite shoreline. The waters of the estuary couldn't be far away. Knowing that team-bad-guy was up ahead, there was no point in encumbering herself with the C50. She'd do this part on foot.

Ace moved off, using the trees as cover, staying parallel to the track. She didn't risk her torch. She moved as quickly as she could, just in case Cai had decided – in Mortimus's absence – that the Doctor should be disposed of. Cai was ruthless enough to do it.

Ace fell over three times as she made her way through the woodland. Tree roots, undergrowth and an unexpected dip in the ground all tripped her up. She'd taken worse punishment than a few bruises and scrapes in recent days, however, and she kept going.

At the end of the track was a cleared area where the jeep-thing was parked, its headlights illuminating the front of a low concrete structure. Ace crouched in the tree line, loath to show herself while she assessed the opposition. Next to the jeep was a guard armed with a rifle. Another one, similarly armed, stood by an open door into the structure.

What was this place? It didn't look like a harbour. The low building stretched out along the shore, but it was hard to see anything beyond. She was still trying to puzzle it out when a row of lights flickered on along the roof. Cai must have turned a generator on. Two of the lights were angled into the space in front of the building. The rest seemed to point behind it. Ace moved along the tree line to try to get a better angle on what was going on here.

The shingle-strewn shoreline was in sight by the time she had a view of the rear of the building.

"Holy fucking fuck," she muttered.

She now knew how Cai and Mortimus intended to beat the British Navy, and probably overthrow the Qing Dynasty too. In a row of uniform concrete bays that stretched into the waters of the Yangtze estuary, hidden from prying eyes by the cover of a natural inlet, were three submarines, each in various stages of completion.

From her hiding place, Ace watched as Cai emerged from the building, this time on its shore-side. Cai led her accompanying guard to the submarine that seemed closest to being finished. The vessel was maybe twenty metres long and three or four metres wide. It consisted of a long tube with a couple of funnel-type-things on top, but no portholes. An exostructure had been built around it, housing propellers, ballast tanks and all kinds of other technical bits and bobs that Ace did not have the nautical knowledge to interpret. Compared to the nuclear subs she was familiar with from her own century, this thing was tiny. She'd bet it would pack more than enough of a punch to take down nineteenth century vessels, however.

As she assessed the submarine, Ace realised something. It was, effectively, an enclosed metal pod supported on scaffolding just above the waterline. It looked unpowered; it was probably chilly inside, especially at night. Most significantly, the submarine, with its pressure-rated hull and internal doors, might form the kind of prison cell that could hold even the Doctor for a few days. He much preferred prisons he could talk his way out of, or ones that came with a nice, convenient high-tech lock to bypass. Hefty mechanical bolts tended to scupper him.

Ace watched as Cai waved at the guard to stay on the sloping causeway between building and submarine bays. Cai paused, took out her Smartphone and tapped at it for a moment. Then she pocketed it and climbed a metal ladder to access the gantry that ran all the way across the bays.

Okay then. First Ace needed to get rid of the guards, since there was no point in rescuing the Doctor only to run straight back into trouble. Secondly, she needed to get to Cai before the Doctor was subjected to any further damage. Thirdly, she needed to incapacitate Cai, preferably not permanently – though at this point Ace was willing to compromise that principle – and get the Doctor out of there. At that point, she could get him into the jeep and drive both of them back to the TARDIS.

Easy-peasy.

Ace left Cai and her guard alone for the moment and returned to the section of tree line that overlooked the yard and the jeep. The guard next to the vehicle was getting bored; he leaned against the back of the jeep, staring blankly at the track leading inland. His rifle was rested over a shoulder. The other guard had disappeared, presumably inside the building. It was raining, after all.

She needed to get jeep-guard's attention. Easily done. She found a good spot in the trees, palmed her torch and flashed it at the guard's face. The guard stood up straight, frowning. He looked over at the tree line. Ace risked another blink of light. The guard stirred, then checked the building. He looked annoyed when his colleague was nowhere to be seen. Still, Ace had done enough; the guard walked away from the jeep towards the trees, rifle now cradled in his arms.

She moved off a few metres. He'd struggle to see her, because he didn't have a lantern and he was moving from bright light into darkness. He glared angrily at the trees, as if it was their fault he was out in the pissing rain.

Ace waited for her moment. The guard peered between the trees but came no closer. "Who's there?" he demanded, because of course _that_ always worked. She picked up a stone and chucked it over to the guard's right. He turned, tightened his hold on his rifle and said, "Stop there, or I shoot!" to absolutely nothing. He took a step, presenting his back to Ace.

She crept up behind him, shoved and watched as he took a nose-first dive into the undergrowth. He lost the rifle as his hands tried to protect him from the fall. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ace went to pick the rifle up. She ejected the cartridge, turned the weapon around and whacked the bloke just behind the ear, in the place Li had taught her to aim for if she needed to score a knockout.

It worked. Education was everything. One down, two to go.

Ace approached the building from the side, in case the second guard was standing in the doorway looking out. She listened for a moment before taking a quick look through the door. The guard was nowhere to be seen, so she snuck inside. Another door stood ajar to the right. She could hear tuneless whistling. She glanced around; the room was some kind of workshop, its counters cluttered with tools that had no place in the nineteenth century. Blueprints were tacked up on the walls. Ace ignored everything apart from the rifle that the guard had propped against a stool while he left the room. Amateur.

There was only one thing the absent, whistling guard could be doing. Ace checked the half-open door; the room beyond was indeed the lavatory. The guard had his back to her and was in the process of fiddling his man-parts back into his trousers. She slipped back out of the room, because this time it was easy enough to close the door and wedge a convenient stool under the handle.

She waited a moment, and listened. The door juddered as the guard tried to open it, then thumped a couple of times. She arched an eyebrow at his swearing, but he'd need an axe to get through a solid timber door like that one. Time to move on.

From the back of the workshop, Ace followed a narrow passageway with doors off either side. She ignored them, intent on the open door at the rear of the building. A quick shufty outside told her that Cai was in the submarine now, and the guard at the bottom of the access ladder was actually behaving like security was his job, damn it. He had his gun at the ready and constantly monitored his surroundings.

Ace returned to the building and checked rooms until she found what she was looking for: a door labelled 'Generator'. It was not locked, though a key rested in its keyhole. Perhaps Cai and Mortimus liked to lock the more expensive equipment away when they weren't present to keep an eye on it. Inside, the electricity generator was not of any type Ace had seen before, though its function was obvious from the switchgear. She took a risk and shut the thing down. The lights in the building blinked off. Ace went back to the doorway and waited.

"Bohai?" a voice called. "Did you turn the power off?"

Footsteps. Ace waited some more.

"Bohai?"

A loud tut of irritation, and the guard came into the generator room. He walked straight past Ace, drawn by the dim light of the LEDs over the switches. Ace waited until he was busy trying to restart the generator before she left the room, closed the door and turned the key.

Job done.

That left just one person standing between her and the Doctor. Ace smiled grimly as she made her way back to the submarine bays.

Cai didn't stand a chance.

~~~

Cai's distant, echoing voice drifted up through the open hatch atop the submarine.

"...isn't as if I didn't do my homework," she said. "China isn't the only place that benefits. I mean – do you know how much Lord Palmerston's political career depended on the wealth he generated through drug-dealing?"

Who the fuck was Lord Palmerston? And why was Cai trying to convince the Doctor of the rightness of her actions? It seemed unlikely that she would care. Ace shook her head and concentrated on navigating the ladder as quietly as possible.

"The man was the archetype for every populist, self-serving villain who twists patriotism to his own ends," Cai went on. "With no more drug-money to fuel his political campaigns, Palmerston will never make Prime Minister. It's Gladstone who'll get the top job, a couple of decades early. Time enough to make a real difference."

Ace stepped into the hull of the submarine. The craft did, in fact, have sufficient power to run its lighting, which at least meant she wasn't going to telegraph her arrival with a beam from her torch. She strained to hear any response to Cai's comments. If the Doctor was participating in the discussion, however, Ace couldn't hear him.

"...Mort's a sweetheart, really, when he isn't being smug and annoying, but he isn't in it to make things better. He just likes to see what happens. That's why it's good, in a way, that he latched on to me. I can be his conscience. Jiminy Cricket."

Ace swallowed a contemptuous laugh before she remembered herself enough to look around. The submarine's hull was split into sections fore and aft. The circular door set into the forward bulkhead was closed, and she saw no reason to bother with it. Cai's voice was drifting through from the tail-end of the craft. Ace moved towards it, slowly, slowly, because the metal plates that made up the floor were not conducive to stealth.

"Okay, I'll grant you that," Cai's voice said, louder as Ace drew closer. "But at least I don't go around calling Mortimus my 'other half'."

Ace hesitated, then grimaced as she remembered what she'd said to Cai, back when she'd thought she was talking to a sharp-witted maidservant. She really had used those words to describe the Doctor, hadn't she? And now he knew it too. Perfect. Ace tamped down the rising sense of embarrassment.

"Oh, if it's 'phrases' you're after, I'll have to bring you her journal! That'll be a treat. My favourite vignette was the one that featured you and her getting busy in–"

Ace stormed through the open bulkhead door at a brisk pace, furious, humiliated, wanting nothing more than to stop Cai speaking any more of these horrific, mortifying _words_. She found herself in another compartment, facing a closed bulkhead door and with no sign of the Doctor. Confused, she spun around.

Cai grinned up at her from the corner in which she sat. She held Ace's own stun-gun aimed right at Ace's chest. On the floor beside her was her Smartphone, and on the screen was a blinking red blob.

Cai winked. "You really are too easy, you know that?"

Ace felt a mixture of relief and fury. She'd been played again, but at least the Doctor hadn't been told about her journal "Where is he?" she demanded. She cast a suspicious look at the door leading further aft.

Cai let out a peal of laughter. "Yes! Good call! Let's imprison the clever and resilient alien in the submarine that's vital to our plans! What could possibly go wrong?" She shook her head with mirth.

"Then what the hell are we doing in here?" Ace said, trying to keep her temper even. It was hard, though. She was fatigued, and she'd taken a blow to the head, and she was pretty sure that the stinging sore patch on her arm had been made when a bullet had grazed her. And, by the way, this was the _second_ wave of disappointment she'd been forced to experience after gearing up for a reunion with the Doctor. Frankly, she'd fucking well had it.

Cai stood up. "Well, I'm here because I was waiting for you." She scooped up her phone and waggled it at Ace before putting it in a pocket.

"You had another tracker on me," Ace surmised.

"Obviously I did. Why would I have told you about the first one if I didn't have a back-up?"

"Where's this one, then?" Ace asked.

"In your bloodstream. You ingested it, back at the fort." Cai beamed, clearly feeling clever. "It's not a total loss, though. You get to see the sub. She's a beauty, right? I designed the torpedo system myself."

Ace nodded. "Almost be a shame, when I blow it up."

Cai rolled her eyes, hearing only bravado.

"So getting back to my first question – where is the Doctor?" Ace pressed.

"You're confused. _I'm_ the one with the gun. So the question, actually, is – where is Mortimus?"

Ace shrugged a shoulder. "In the Doctor's TARDIS. Where he was desperate to be."

"You let him in?"

"Yup."

Cai frowned suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because he was holding your nine millimetre to the head of Li Renxiang."

"Ah." Cai nodded. "Wondered where that had gone. So, I take it you're the one who shot me, right?"

"I get cross when people point guns at my friends."

Cai tutted the remark away. "If Mort's in the police box, why aren't you?"

"Came to look for the Doctor, didn't I?"

"How come Mort let you go?"

"Must have liked my face."

Cai's eyes narrowed into a glare. "I think you and I are going back to the house. You're going to open up that police box for me, and show me that Mort's okay, and if you don't then I'm going to shoot you with this little ray-gun."

Ace considered her for a moment. "Okay." She turned around and marched through the door, heading back to the ladder.

"Hey!" Cai complained behind her. "Slowly."

"Whatever."

Ace scaled the ladder. She clambered out through the hatch onto the gantry, aware that Cai was hurrying to catch up. In the few moments of solitude she had, she retrieved her largest charge of Nine-A: the one she'd grabbed from the floor of Mortimus's hallway. It had a preset fuse of fifteen seconds and was the size of a ping-pong ball. She palmed it, adopted a bored expression and waited for Cai.

Cai gave her a weird look when she climbed out of the hatch, as if she'd been expecting Ace to run for it. She jerked her gun-hand towards the ladder down to the causeway.

Ace activated the marble of explosive and dropped it down the hatch.

"I were you? I'd run," she said, then pelted for the ladder.

She slid down in mere seconds, only then hearing Cai shriek in reaction and follow. Ace raced up the causeway and along the concrete strip behind the building. A handful of metres from the door, she risked a look over her shoulder. Cai was catching up fast. Ace skidded to a halt by the door, turned on the rain-soaked concrete and then lost balance and fell to her backside, just as her charge blew. There was a thunderous, hollow thunk noise, a rush of air and flame escaping through the submarine's open hatchway, and three or four of the steel plates that had formed the unfinished hull's tubing flew out from their housing, knocking bits of exostructure with them.

The submarine creaked, groaned, and then broke somewhere near the access hatch. It sagged into a shallow V-shape right there on its scaffold.

Cai had crouched instinctively with the noise, holding her hands over her head, perhaps expecting a greater yield than Ace could pack into something pocket-sized. No matter. It was enough. That submarine's development had just been set back a good six months. While Cai made outraged noises at the damage, Ace clambered to her feet. Sometimes, the small victories were the sweetest.

Cai stood up and looked at Ace, eyes wide with rage. "You fucking bitch," she said.

"A happy fucking bitch," Ace replied cheerfully.

Cai seemed speechless at that, then she aimed the stun-gun at Ace's chest and pressed the trigger.

Nothing happened. Cai frowned and tried again.

Ace snorted. "Thing is, you see – that tech is twenty-seventh century. Intelligent, self-repairing ceramic and crystal circuitry powered by an AI that knows how to gauge its output to its target. It recognises different species and will adjust. It recognises if your aim is a bit off, and will compensate. And it recognises the biometrics of its _owner_ , and it will not fire upon them."

Cai stared at the stun-gun a moment longer, then said, "Fuck!" very loudly and dropped it on the ground.

Ace shook her head. "Petulant so-and-so, aren't you?" She reached for her belt holster and withdrew her combat knife. "So...you know that bit in Indiana Jones, when Indy is all 'never bring a knife to a gun-fight'?" She tossed her knife in the air, let it spin, caught it expertly at its handle – she'd practised the move for hours – and then held it, nice and relaxed, in a reverse-blade position, edge out. "Doesn't always apply."

Cai's eyes widened and she stepped backwards. The rain was plastering her hair against her face. She reached in her biker jacket, and came up with a pocket knife that took her a fumbling few seconds to unfurl. She gripped it so tightly her knuckles whitened, blade pointing forward at Ace.

"Oh god," Ace said. "You've never had a knife fight in your life, have you?"

Not that they were having one right now. On the few occasions when Ace had been present at edged-weapon altercations, she'd learned one important thing: knife fights were never won by the person waving their blade around. The winner was always the one who kept their blade hidden until it had already done its damage.

Ace was posturing. The trick here was making sure Cai didn't realise this.

Cai tried skipping forward, worrying at Ace with her blade. Ace just watched Cai's clumsy attempts to threaten. When Cai got annoyed and tried to slash at her face, Ace leaned easily away because Cai had telegraphed the move. Cai tried to spring back, expecting retaliation, and almost fell over in her haste. Ace used the time to turn and pick up her stun-gun. She dried it on her shirt then pressed it open using her left hand. The weapon, pleasingly, showed power.

"Excellent," Ace said. "I'd rather knock you out than cut your throat." She holstered her knife and swapped the stun-gun to her dominant hand. Cai's knife arm dropped as she recognised she'd relinquished her position of power. "Now. Where were we? Ah, yes." She paused, stepped closer, watched Cai stumble back. "One more time. _Where is the Doctor_?"

Cai swallowed, then said, "Where he's been for the last five days. In the basement of the house."

Ace wanted to howl her frustration. All the time she'd spent scooter-ing around this sodding island, and he'd been right where she started. "So why were his clothes in the gun-store?"

"Mort was looking for something. A key to the other TARDIS. The Doctor wouldn't give it up."

"So your fella stripped the Doctor and took his clothes to the other end of the island?" Ace arched a brow. "Bit weird."

"We weren't _at_ the house when that happened!"

"So tell me how it happened."

"Fine." Cai wiped rain from her eyes. She looked at the pocket knife she still held, snapped it shut and put it back in her jacket. "When the Doctor showed up at the fort with the barge crew, I found out Mort had been telling the barge workers to look out for a man in strange clothing with a big blue box. Seemed the Doctor was important, so I called Mort to let him know then took the Doctor over to the island. Mort happened to be in his TARDIS at the time, working on some coordinates, so I went straight there. There's a dock behind the steelworks."

Ace nodded. "And then?"

"We went to Mort's TARDIS, me, the Doctor and the guard I'd brought. Mort was waiting for us. He looked the Doctor up and down, said something rude about how he looked, then he told me we'd be needing transport and I should go and get the jeep. I went back to the boat."

"Got you well trained, eh?" Ace said, unable to resist throwing Cai's own words back at her.

"Ha ha."

"And after that?"

"I took the speedboat round to the harbour, collected the jeep, drove back down to the TARDIS. It was after midnight when I got there. They were all standing outside the ship. The guard told me Mort and the Doctor had been arguing non-stop. I was about to ask what was going on when Mort grabbed the guard's revolver and pistol-whipped the Doctor on his shoulder."

Ace went cold. "Which shoulder?" she demanded.

"Left, I think. Weirdly, it seemed to put him straight out."

Of course it had. It was one of the few places on a Gallifreyan body that was vulnerable, thanks to the nerve-cluster just below the skin. "So your mate knocked the Doctor out and then just stripped him?" Ace pressed.

"Like I said, he was looking for a key. Mort tore off your friend's jacket, rummaged in the pockets, got more and more frustrated when he couldn't find what he wanted. He got the guard to help him search – shoes, socks, trousers, the lot. Got to the point I didn't know where to look, but there's no talking to Mort when he's in a strop. Eventually, he told the guard to dump the Doctor in the jeep, said we should lock him up in the basement. He told the guard to put the clothes somewhere safe. I drove us up to the house."

"And several days of torture followed."

"I wasn't here!" Cai protested. "I spent most of that time at the fort, keeping an eye on the Apcar lot, coordinating the search for _you_." She sighed and shook her head. "Look, I was just trying to freak you out, earlier. The Doctor doesn't have a scratch on him, except for the bruise at his shoulder. All Mort's been doing is some telepathy stuff. Said it's an old Time Lord game. Like arm-wrestling or something, but mental."

"Mind-bending," Ace said, remembering the phrase from her dream.

"Whatever." A sly look. "The Doctor did call your name, though."

There was a pause. The rain hammered loudly.

"So...are you going to shoot me?" Cai asked.

"Not unless you make me. But I am going to rescue the Doctor, and I am going to stop this plan of yours."

"Why? It's only going to do good!"

"So would killing Hitler. There's still a reason we can't."

There was a noise and a shout from inside the building. Ace rolled her eyes at the amount of time it had taken the guard she'd barricaded into the toilet to smash his way free. She stepped back, waited, and when the man came barrelling out of the door in all his frustrated fury, she shot him with a swift burst of energy and watched as he collapsed.

"Look, I'm sorry," Ace added to Cai, as if nothing had just happened. "I believe there's a part of you that means well. But you lost track of yourself. Maybe it's the fuckwit you travel with, maybe it's just you." She breathed deeply. "You threatened to drown an innocent baby. You go around armed with a semi-automatic. I know you're angry. I know you're scared about what Mortimus is doing."

"I'm not scared!" Cai said.

Ace shot her a sympathetic look. "Right you are. But Mortimus was _expecting_ the Doctor. You know he's been obsessed with the Doctor's TARDIS. He wants our navigation module, by the way – it'll save him having to work out coordinates by hand." Ace gestured at the nearby submarines. "All this – it's a long con. Don't you get it? Mortimus doesn't care what happens to China over the next hundred years. He just wanted the Doctor here, investigating the timeline weirdness. Your big plan to change history was nothing more than a lump of cheese to bait a trap for the Doctor, so Mortimus could steal that module. Fix his ship."

She walked back to the door, stepped over the unconscious guard, then added, "Your C50's in the trees up near the junction. I need to borrow your jeep, I'm afraid."

Ace headed off through the building, listening for sounds of Cai following. She needn't have bothered. Cai, it seemed, had her own issues.

~~~

Ace dumped the jeep when she ran out of path that was wide enough to drive along. She jogged the rest of the way through the village. No one was still up, and the fires had all burned out. She passed through the trees to the house. The front door was unguarded and remained unlocked. Ace went inside and began searching for a door to a sublevel.

She found it in the kitchen, after pausing to shoot a guard when he stood up groggily from his seat at the kitchen table. The basement stairs led down into a storeroom with three doors leading off the main area. The first door Ace tried was unlocked and offered up a walk-in pantry filled with sacks of dried goods. She went to the next door, which was locked. It also had a rubber seal, and a covered electrical panel was mounted next to it on the wall. Ace pulled the cover down and saw an LCD display which read 1.6°C.

_"Cold."_

She felt a tremor – maybe horror, maybe fury, maybe guilt that it had taken her five days to get here – but she held herself in check and jabbed at the control pad until she found a way to increase the temperature and unlock the door. The door went clunk-click. She hauled the heavy-duty handle down and heaved it open. Harsh lighting came on automatically, and frigid air blew out at her, making her shiver in her rain-soaked clothes. She stalked inside, uncaring that another guard might come up behind her and shut her in this ice-cube prison as well.

Near the door, the walk-in refrigerator was well stocked with perishables. Ace found her way blocked by a stainless steel trolley that was so cold to the touch that she needed to use her woollen hat as a protective glove when she pushed it out the way. Several large pig carcasses dangled on hooks further inside; she ducked and weaved past them. Her focus did not waver as she made her way to the back of the room.

The Doctor lay on the tiled floor. He was curled on his side, his wrists and legs bound, a piece of duct tape stuck over his mouth. He was naked, and terrifyingly still.

"Oh god," Ace whispered.

She went to him, fell to her knees. She reached for the place at his neck where she knew she could find his pulse, and hoped, and despaired–

There. A double-flutter. His body had all but shut down, but he lived still.

"Thank you," Ace said. "Thank you. I'm here, Doctor, it's me. I've got you."

Peripherally, she heard machine noises as the refrigerator pumped out cold air and replaced it with warmer. She grabbed her knife from its holster and cut the binds on the Doctor's wrists and ankles, then she yanked her bag around and pulled out his clothes until she could get to the thermal blanket underneath. It took some manoeuvring but she got him covered up as best she could. She tried to move his body into a more comfortable position, then peeled the tape from over his mouth.

"I'm going to use the hypo," she said, talking as much to keep herself company as anything else. "You've gone and done the coma thing. Coming out of it's going to be hard work." Ace opened the box containing the syringe with tremulous hands. "Your metabolism's slowed to a crawl, and your immune system will be on the fritz and – god, probably other stuff as well, but I'm doing my best not to panic so you'll forgive me if I can't remember _everything_ you've told me over the years."

She pulled the thermal blanket down to access his nearest arm, turned it and traced the vein she could see inside his elbow joint. Gallifreyan physiology was different to human in any number of weird and wonderful ways, but the Doctor still had a cardiovascular system, with veins that carried his alien blood to both of his alien hearts. Ace lined up the hypo-jet, waited until the tiny indicator on the top of the syringe flared to indicate its positioning was correct, then she activated the pneumatic spray. The medicine was delivered. She could only hope that it would do the trick.

While she waited, she packed the syringe box away and then tucked the blanket more firmly around him. The air in the room was growing more temperate: not exactly warm, but no longer icy.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It took me so long to find you. I'll do better next time. Promise." She squeezed her eyes shut, gave in to the need to touch, found his hand under the blanket and lifted it up to her forehead. "I'm no good at this stuff without you. Just as well I'm the sidekick. I'd make a rotten superhero."

She might have kept on muttering nonsense indefinitely, but the Doctor moved, back arching as he drew in a dramatic breath. Ace kept hold of his hand but dropped it to her lap so she could look at him.

"Doctor?" she whispered.

His eyes opened wide without any fluttering preamble. They stared straight upwards, then they moved to the side and found her own. For a moment they looked disconcertingly alien, then they blinked.

"Hello, Ace," said the Doctor. His voice was rough around the edges. He frowned at her for a moment, then added, "Did you bump your head?"

She made a noise that was part-laugh and part-sob, and she nodded.

"I am cold," he announced. "And sore. And very uncomfortable." He glanced down at himself, managed to lift his free hand to the blanket and peered underneath. "Oh. Also unclothed. Should I be alarmed?"

"I've got your clothes," Ace said. "And I've got the bad guy. And I think I might burst into tears now, so if you could just politely ignore me?"

He held her gaze for a moment, then hauled himself to a sitting position. His hand, still clasped between hers, reached upwards to touch her trembling lower lip.

"Oh Ace," he whispered. "Since when have I been polite?"

He smiled, and it was one of his best Doctor smiles: teasing, secretive, excluding everything but the two of them. Ace gasped on the inhale as the events of recent hours caught up with her. The gasp became a sob. The Doctor tugged his hand free and pulled her into an embrace. She hung on, arms tight around him, her mouth pressed into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

For a while, she just shook.

"Was it you?" he murmured when the reaction had passed.

"Was what me?" she mumbled back.

"My figment."

"Of course it was me. An actual figment would've been nicer."

The Doctor pulled back and looked at her, eyes more blue than grey, shining, deep enough to drown in. "The TARDIS," he deduced.

"She keeps butting in," Ace agreed. She paused to wipe some wetness from her cheeks with a shoulder. "You should have seen us down by the steelworks. Left a bit, right a bit..."

"I don't follow."

"I'll tell you all about it. But I think we should probably get out of this fridge first."

"Oh! That's why it's cold."

"Yup."

"Excellent plan." He looked down at the blanket, then up at her. "Did you say something about clothes?"

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whacking a Gallifreyan on one particular spot on their left shoulder will indeed knock them out. The idea appears originally in the New Adventures novel _Set Piece_ by Kate Orman, published by Virgin Books in 1995.
> 
> It is canon. Obviously. Because Kate Orman wrote it.
> 
> (There are other parts of the New Adventures which are clearly not canon. I do not apologise for my inconsistencies here, since most of the authors of that range never apologised for theirs.)


	9. Chapter 9

_Changxing Island_   
_16th April 1844_   
_1:15 am_

The debrief that took place between Ace and the Doctor was swift. She summarised the events of recent days, her back turned as he dressed. He asked a few questions, but a lot of the finer detail was too time-consuming to relay. There was, after all, a denouement to oversee.

As she unlocked the TARDIS, Ace admitted to herself that she felt some trepidation. She'd been gone, what, two hours now? More? Long enough for a Time Lord to recover from a blow to the head and overcome two captors, even people as reliable and skilled as Li and Tian. She'd told herself when she'd left them there that she had no choice; she needed to find the Doctor. The TARDIS's temporal grace would have protected her friends from physical violence, but Time Lords had other ways to subdue.

There was no way around it. She'd left her friends in a potentially dangerous situation. Indeed, when she'd admitted to the Doctor that she'd placed Mortimus under guard in the console room, he'd looked like he wanted to object. Strenuously. Ace suspected it was only her drowned-rat clothing and collection of injuries that had kept him from doing so.

It was, therefore, something of a relief when she stepped into the console room and saw Mortimus sitting in his corner, still shrouded by the pillowcase hood. Tian was stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep, and Li was sitting in the Doctor's wing armchair, a rifle across her lap as she watched over her daughter.

"Oh thank god," Ace whispered.

"Quite," the Doctor said, a bit pointedly.

Li looked up at them, frowned, put a finger over her mouth and went, "Shh!"

"Sorry," Ace whispered. She went to check on the guard, who was sitting in his corner with his arms still bound behind his back. He was awake and had a vivid red patch over his throat. The look in his eyes was angry and frustrated, but he'd had time to get used to his captivity.

Then she went to Li. "Hi," she whispered. "Everyone okay?"

Li nodded, her eyes taking in Ace's appearance with a frown. "The guard only struggled the first time he woke up. After I hit him again, he behaved." She kept her voice to a low murmur. "The priest-man was more annoying. Each time he stirred, he tried to move, or shake off his hood, or talk to us. You said not to touch him, but I thought it would be all right to use the butt of the rifle."

Ace nodded. She turned away, to see the Doctor already busy at the console. He was frowning over read-outs, but with Li's comment he glanced up and studied her makeshift bludgeon. "Really?" he murmured, apparently to the ceiling. "Getting selective with your temporal grace functionality again?" Then he gave a small smile. "Well done."

The hooded shape in the corner called out, "Is that you, Doctor? Good. You've had your fun. Now get this thing off me."

Everyone else who was awake said, "Shh!" The harm was done, though. Wenling stirred in her makeshift cradle, pouted at the disturbance and hiccupped as she considered whether or not to cry. Li slipped down to bend over her, stroking her head, offering soothing words. The Doctor tossed a contemptuous look at Mortimus and then decided to go and introduce himself to the baby. He leaned in and gave his usual greeting – a whistle and a wave – which drew Wenling's attention and turned those thoughts of crying into an entertained gurgle.

Since the baby was awake anyway, Ace went over to Mortimus and kicked him hard on his knee. Mortimus fell to his side and said, "Ow!" with heartfelt indignation.

"You piece of scum," Ace muttered, low and harsh. She had rage inside her, boiling away, and it needed an outlet. "You wallop him where it hurts, strip him naked, chuck him in a fridge, then you invade his mind when his defences are down?"

"He could have just given me his key!" Mortimus complained, voice muffled by the pillowcase.

"Why should he have done that?"

"He took _my_ directional unit first!"

Ace looked over at the Doctor, who had by this time fished Wenling out of her cot and was keeping her occupied with a series of silly faces and funny noises. When Ace arched a brow at him, he shrugged. "It was a long time ago, and I needed it. Anyway, _he_ was trying to strike a deal with the Daleks!"

Ace looked down at Mortimus. "Seriously? The Daleks?"

Mortimus wriggled on the floor. "That was his fault too! I got caught up in that situation only because I was following the Doctor."

"And why were you following him?"

"I was...well, annoyed."

"You were annoyed."

"He wrecked my dimensional control!"

"And why did he do that?" Ace asked.

"Malice!" Mortimus spat.

She looked over at the Doctor. Wenling had reached up and was pulling at his hair. The Doctor smiled beatifically. "Oh. That. He wanted to change the outcome of the Battle of Hastings."

Ace rolled her eyes. "Just old Mortimus, poking things with sticks to see if they squeal," she said.

Mortimus said, "I want my directional unit back!"

The Doctor said, "Hard luck. It blew up centuries ago."

"So how in the name of the Pythia do you pilot this pile of junk?"

"I've always been a better engineer than you. And don't be rude to my ship."

Ace sighed. "Can I kick him again?"

"Would it make you feel better?" the Doctor asked.

"Not really. But I'm pretty wiped out. Maybe if I grab some kip, see how I feel in the morning?"

"Excuse me!" Mortimus protested. "Shadow Proclamation, fifteenth whatsit. Um, convention! Fifteenth convention! I will not be subjected to violence when willing to parley!"

The Doctor handed Wenling off to Li. He came over to join them. On the sofa, Tian had stirred by this time, and began to help Li with the baby. Ace had the impression that her friends had used their focus on Wenling's care as a coping mechanism. When the world threw strange and incomprehensible things at you, there was comfort in seeking out something familiar and mundane.

The Doctor crouched down and looked at Mortimus, curled on his side, wrists bound at his back, blinded by his makeshift hood. "That statute applies to times of war," he said. "Have you declared war, Mortimus?"

"All right, then, another one. Geneva Convention! That's local, isn't it?"

"Also war. And you're a century early."

"Fine, pick a convention. Any you like. Just call your attack dog off!"

The Doctor picked at the pillowcase that Mortimus sported, making him flinch away. "Ace?"

"Mmm?"

"This was your idea? The hood?"

"Yup."

"Excellent precaution. I should have you write a manual. _How to Survive Travelling with the Doctor_. Can I borrow your knife?"

Mortimus gave a yelp and cried, "What? Wait! Wait!"

She unholstered the blade and offered it, handle-first, to the Doctor. She was unsurprised though still mildly disappointed when he used it only to sever the cable-tie holding the pillowcase in place.

"Thank you," he said, handing it back. He grabbed Mortimus's shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position, then yanked the pillowcase off. "Oof," he said, wincing at the sight of Mortimus's face. "You've got a few bruises, old man."

Mortimus glared over at Li. "That...that little _harridan_ over there kept hitting me!"

"I'm not surprised. Is there a more fearsome opponent than a mother who sees you as a threat to her child?" The Doctor turned to look at Li and smiled his charming smile. "Thank you for your help." Li nodded, a touch uncertain. "Your daughter is beautiful, by the way."

He turned back, looked steadily at Mortimus for long seconds – long enough for the pause to feel uncomfortable – then he stood straight. Mortimus seemed unsettled by whatever had just passed between the two of them.

The Doctor cast his eyes over Ace. He touched the bump on her right temple. "How did this happen?" he asked quietly.

"Fell and smacked my head on the floor."

"Why did you fall?"

"He Taser-ed me."

The Doctor's eyes darkened. He spared a glance for Mortimus, then said, "Where did the wires attach?"

"Between my shoulder blades. I was in Victorian frills at the time."

An eyebrow quirk. "And I missed it?" He moved around to Ace's back, pulled the neck of her damp shirt off her shoulders and then eased her T-shirt down with it. Something caught against the material and stung a little. "Yes, you've got two nasty burns. One of them is bleeding." He turned his attention to her upper arm, and the injury she'd sustained in the locked gun-store. Her clothing had been sliced through as that gunshot had grazed her. There was a mess of blood and frayed fibres underneath. She was only just beginning to realise how much it hurt. "And this?"

"One of his guards got a bit close with his aim."

"Hmm." The Doctor lifted her left hand up and examined the slice on the back of it. The bleeding had long since stopped, but it was sore. "This?"

"Cut myself breaking into a storage unit where I thought you were being held. Only found your clothes, though."

He nodded. "You're wincing when you breathe."

"Oh, I did that one days ago. Bruised ribs. That was the beating I took, the one I told you about. The three street-thugs from the canal. Li Renxiang rescued me."

Mortimus finally piped up, "Yes, yes, all right, you've made your point, but you can hardly blame me for the actions of some local bully-boys!"

The Doctor smiled at her, weary and sad. He caressed the side of her face, just briefly, then he turned to Mortimus. "You're not to blame?" he asked coldly. "Why were we even here?"

Mortimus looked away and shuffled a bit. "Well, I don't know."

"Of course you do. You've gone to great lengths to attract my attention. This was a trap. If my travelling companion wasn't so resourceful, it might even have worked."

Ace made a face. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Professor. I got a lot of help."

"Even so." The Doctor went to the console. For a moment, it looked as if his legs were going to give way, but he caught himself on the nearest panel and steadied the wobble. "Ace–"

"You okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Yes, yes, fine. Now. This note your friend had."

"What about it?"

Mortimus said, "What note?"

The Doctor ignored him. "Do you have it with you?"

"Nope." Ace looked at Li. "You didn't bring it, did you?"

"I did not," Li replied.

The Doctor nodded at that, even as his hands flew over various sections of the console, eyes darting between three raised screens. "Probably just as well. But I need details. What did it look like?"

Ace glanced at Li. "Written in Li Renxiang's hand. Thick paper, heavy weave."

"What is this about?" Mortimus demanded.

"Ink?" the Doctor asked, still ignoring his fellow Time Lord. "Colour? Brush or nib?"

"Um – nib. Probably bamboo. Black ink." Ace glanced at Li, who nodded her agreement. "Oh! The ink was a bit faded, like it had been written quite a long time ago."

"The delivery?" the Doctor prompted.

Li said, "Someone slid it under my door while I slept, three days before the attack on Miss Ace."

"You don't know who?"

"I asked around, but no one knew."

"I see. Do you remember the message, word for word?"

"I remember it," Li said.

"Good." His attention seemed drawn to one particular screen, and there was a pause. The Doctor's expression grew tense. His hand trembled as it rested over a control. Ace wondered whether he really had recovered from his ordeal in the refrigerator.

Ace murmured, "Professor?"

He looked up at her. "So. Submarines?"

She accepted the change in subject. "Three of them. Although one is now in two big chunks."

"And several industrial complexes?"

"Haven't had time to look at them all, but there's at least seven, plus the shipyard."

"Hmm. There's the refrigeration chamber in the basement. The speedboat, of course, and the jeep."

She worked out that he was cataloguing all the local anachronisms. "And a scooter. Lots of generators. A telly, a laptop. And several hundred futuristic revolvers all over Shanghai."

The Doctor sighed. "I was never going to tidy this one up on my own, was I?" He seemed to be talking to himself, or possibly to the screen that bothered him so much.

"What's to tidy up?" Mortimus demanded. "I haven't hurt anyone!" At the Doctor's glare, he said, "Yes, very well, so we might have hurt your mouthy little friend a bit. But she deserved it."

Incredulously, Ace said, "No one's been hurt? Are you having a laugh? _Three_ gunshot deaths in the city since I got here, and that's just the ones Madam Deng knows about. And if you want another example – Cai told me you've been hanging the men you brought over here if they use opium."

There was a moment of quiet as everyone processed this.

"All right, now you're really making this sound much worse than it is," Mortimus said.

The Doctor held her gaze. "Without that note," he said, "what was going to happen?"

Ace pinched her lips before she shook her head and admitted, "I'd had it."

He nodded, eyes glassy, though Ace could not tell whether it was physical or emotional discomfort. "No Ace, no rescue, no intervention," he murmured. "Makes sense."

Mortimus, sounding increasingly worried, said, "What makes sense?"

"You've left me no choice," the Doctor mused.

"What?"

"This isn't about you anymore, Mortimus," he said. "The intervention has already been flagged. There's a temporal disruption. Level five."

"If there is, it isn't my fault!"

"Indirectly, it is. But it makes no odds. The intervention is active. We're playing catch-up, now."

"So leave things be!" Mortimus said.

"If I do that, the intervention collapses and the timeline fails. Result: paradox. You know how this works, old man. You weren't asleep during _all_ those lectures on timestream stability." The Doctor sighed. "There's no choice. The intervention must succeed. I have to do it."

"Do what?" Mortimus demanded. The Doctor just looked at him. "Oh. Oh, no." Mortimus actually shrank back. "No, I don't care how irritated I've made you, you wouldn't...you _wouldn't_ , would you?"

"In all the ways that matter, it's already been done. Still, we have some time in hand." The Doctor turned to Ace. "Is there anything of yours outside the TARDIS that you can't do without?"

What the hell did he have planned for the island? He couldn't be intending to flatten it, not with hundreds of captive workers on it. Not even to wipe out all the things on Changxing that should not exist in 1844. The Doctor wouldn't do that. She had to trust that belief.

"My rucksack is in the house somewhere," Ace said. She thought about the things she'd left in her room at Madam Deng's house. "Nothing else that matters."

The Doctor nodded. "You should go and find your rucksack. Perhaps, if she is willing, take Miss Li with you; there are still armed guards around. I'll wait until you return."

"Okay."

"You can remove that other man, too, if you would. He's cluttering up our floor."

Ace went to haul the silent guard to his feet. Li moved to help while Tian took the baby. Ace cut the cable-tie binding the guard's legs, and between her and Li they supported the guard and left the TARDIS.

Back outside, Ace was annoyed to note that the rain had stopped. Typical. Of course it would wait until she no longer had to race around in it.

They paused beside the back door. "Right then, tough guy," she said to the guard, "do you want me to untie your hands?"

He glared at her, but said, "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes...lady?"

Ace snorted. "No. 'Yes, and I promise not to have another go at hurting you, because I've realised that I work for a very bad man.'"

He dropped his head, looked down at his hands, then he nodded abruptly.

"Course, if you do have another go, it's Li who'll be annoyed. And we already know she's way better than you." Ace cut the tie that bound his wrists. "I'd go and find somewhere to be unobtrusive, if I were you."

The guard didn't need telling twice. He staggered away from the wall on legs that had grown stiff, and he sloped off in the direction of the village.

Ace led Li into the house. "Right then. Black rucksack, about so big." She indicated the size with her arms. "Oh, and we should grab the rest of the stuff Madam Deng lent me."

"Should I search upstairs?" Li asked.

"God, no, don't leave me! If someone shows up to point guns at me again I might just let them. Honestly, I've got nothing left. Just watch my back, will you?"

They retrieved Madam Deng's property along with the Nine-A Mortimus had pinched earlier, then they started the search for Ace's rucksack.

Out of the blue, Li said, "What do you think of Mr Tian, Ace?"

Ace straightened up and looked at her friend. Li's expression was hopeful and embarrassed in equal measure.

"I think," Ace said, "that Mr Tian is a catch. He's kind, intelligent and dependable. Also good-looking, if you like that kind of thing."

"Hmm," Li said, noncommittally.

Ace sighed. "I also think that if your thoughts are heading in that direction, you need to be sure of your motivation."

Li pondered on this for a while, as they made their way up the stairs to continue their search.

"You mean that it would be unfair to seduce him simply for his dependability," Li finally said.

"Actually I think it would be unfair to seduce him, full stop." Ace offered her friend a smile. "I can see you two together. I think you'd be great. He's obviously already halfway in love with Wenling. But it's one of those things that needs to happen naturally, you know? If you force it, or if you jump in because you're scared and it looks like a nice, safe option..."

"Yes. Naturally." Li smiled back. "It feels like a long time since I let myself think about falling in love."

Bless her. She was almost seventeen years old, and she talked like she was seventy.

"I'm not sure I've done anything _other_ than think about love. Not for a year or more, now," Ace confessed. "It's an obsession, with me."

Li touched her hand. "Does he not feel the same?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know."

"He acts as if he feels the same."

"There are different kinds of love."

"There are," Li agreed. "Not all of them are mutually exclusive."

Ace blinked at her. "When did you get so wise?"

"I have a wise friend."

A moment, as they both quietly acknowledged the bond they'd found together. Then Ace quirked a smile. "You're right. Mr Tian _is_ wise."

"Very."

They got back to their search. It was, unfortunately, fruitless. Ace had been sure Cai would have kept the rucksack close. She'd bothered to read that damned notebook, which suggested that she'd kept it in her private living quarters. Could the rucksack be in Mortimus's TARDIS, perhaps? If so, Ace would have to write it off. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. She would regret the loss of her address book, but most other things in it could readily be replaced, and maybe it was time to get rid of the notebook. The most recent entries were only a couple of weeks old, but it felt like they'd originated with a much younger Ace, somehow.

They gave up on the upstairs rooms and went back down to the ground level. Ace was brought up short in the hallway, where she saw Cai leaning against the doorframe into the reception room. Cai held out Ace's rucksack, dangling from a strap.

"Looking for this?" Cai asked.

Was there time to draw her stun-gun? Could she even be bothered?

"Yes," Ace said, "actually I am."

Cai nodded and stepped forward. Li, stalwart friend that she was, had already taken up a stance that anticipated an attack. Ace took the rucksack cautiously, but Cai didn't do anything other than step back again.

"You found your Time Lord?" Cai asked.

"Yes."

"He's okay?"

Funny. It was almost like she cared.

"He's pretending to be," Ace replied. "While we sort out this mess. The trauma will take some time to process, though." Ace heard the hard edge to her own voice, but she didn't try to temper it. "It's hard to be that helpless."

"Tell me about it." Cai sighed. "I can't let you screw this up, Ace. Don't you remember what I told you? Hundreds of millions of lives."

"I remember. How can you be so sure your plan won't make things worse?"

"Things couldn't be worse."

Ace shook her head. "Trust me. They can always be worse. Look – come and talk to the Doctor. See what he has to say."

"Why?"

"Because he believes in talking, and he's right. Infuriatingly." Ace watched as Cai gave a small shrug. "I don't want to fight you anymore."

Cai looked up. "Me neither."

"And it's been a long night."

"That it has." Cai looked down at her boots. "Is Mortimus...?"

"He's in the TARDIS. Our one. I, er, might have tied him up. But in my defence, I didn't strip him naked, put him in a fridge and mentally torture him."

Cai managed to breathe a laugh at that, though the humour was forced. "I'll go with you. Since you've got Mort, it isn't like I can do anything on my own, is it?"

Ace smiled a tight smile. "Actually? What we can do on our own might surprise you."

~~~

In another lifetime, Ace might have been jealous. The Doctor greeted Cai politely, as if she hadn't been the reason he was dragged over to Changxing Island and then subjected to some pretty abhorrent treatment. Both of them ignored Mortimus's attempts to prevent Cai from talking to the Doctor, but with the noise Mortimus was making, a conversation was difficult. So the Doctor glanced at Ace, raised his eyebrows, waited for her nod and then led Cai deeper into the TARDIS where they could converse in peace.

And Ace was left wondering why the hell she wasn't jealous. Maybe it was the fatigue. Or perhaps she was still overwhelmed by the relief of their reunion.

Tian said, "Teacher, what is happening?" as soon as Mortimus realised he had no one left to protest to and went back to sulking.

Ace went over to the seating area. She slumped down, groaned at the pleasure of taking the weight off. "Mr Tian. Do you think you could bring yourself to call me 'Ace'? Thing is, I've been a fraud of a teacher, but friendship is always something I try to keep honest."

Tian waited a beat then he nodded. "I see no reason to doubt the value of your lessons, but I accept your friendship and offer my own." He smiled. "Please call me Kuo, if it pleases."

"Kuo. Today you have been a rock. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He frowned. "A...rock?"

"Stalwart. Steadfast. Reliable." She frowned. "God, when did I learn so many words? I bet this is the Doctor's fault. Probably downloads dictionaries into my brain when I'm asleep, or something." She sighed. "Ah well. To answer your question – the Doctor is talking to Cai, hopefully to convince her that the things she has been doing on this island will have harmful repercussions, and she should stop."

In his corner, Mortimus harrumphed.

"Yes, I understood that part," Tian said, lowering his voice. "I wondered about the secret signals you and the Doctor gave each other."

Ace frowned and turned her head along the sofa-back to look at him. "What secret signals?"

Li, cradling Wenling in her arms, laughed. "Very secret ones. So secret you didn't notice them."

Tian looked up at Li and shared her humour. His eyes softened as he did so. Oh, yeah, that guy was smitten.

Ace shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Li said, "He looked at you and made a face. Then you made a face. Then he tilted his head. Then you moved a shoulder and nodded. I was watching."

"As I was," Tian agreed.

"Oh, that. That wasn't secret signals. That was just, I don't know, non-verbal communication."

"And what was communicated?"

Ace blew her cheeks out. "He said 'This might be tricky' and I said 'Why do you think I foisted it off on you, idiot?' and he said 'Fine, but you'll need to keep an eye on Mortimus' and I said..." She turned and pointed directly at the Time Lord, who was doing his best to shuffle closer to the console. She raised her voice emphatically. "'Can I get Li to knock him out again because he is the most annoying tosser I have ever encountered.'"

Mortimus froze, looked up at her, grumbled under his breath and then slunk back to his corner.

"Your non-verbal communications are detailed," Tian said dryly.

"I was paraphrasing." Ace looked down at her damp clothes and picked the material away from her skin. "Ugh. I am so far beyond whacked, it isn't even funny."

"We should see to your injuries," Li said.

"I'll get to the medical bay in a bit."

"At least find some dry clothing."

"That too. In a bit."

Silence for a while. Ace watched Mortimus out of the corner of her eye.

"What will happen to us?" Li finally asked.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, do we go home soon? And if not, is there a place I can sleep? And, um, can we find out what happened to my enemy at the fort?"

These were good questions. Especially the last one. Li had the right to a life free of the fear that Zhu Zhixin could track her down again.

"When the Doctor comes back," Ace said, "and I find out how he's going to put right all the stuff that got screwed up, then I'll be able to answer you."

"Very well."

Mortimus called over, "You haven't figured out what he means to do, have you?"

Ace glared at him. "Shut it, tosspot."

"Charming. So you and he really aren't as close as you'd like everyone to believe, then."

She laughed. "Seriously? That's the best you can do? Clumsy insinuations?"

Mortimus exhaled with a growl. "Fine. We'll take those as read. But he's really never informed you of the Celestial Intervention Agency?"

Ace hid a smile. She'd heard of them, and getting them involved with the current problem made a kind of sense. She was, however, also intrigued to see where Mortimus might be going with this.

Which was why she tried to make herself sound defensive when she replied, "I'm sure he's never informed me of lots of Time Lord stuff. He's been around, you know." 

"Oh, I'm sure, I'm sure," Mortimus agreed. "Only so many hours in a day, yes? I'm sure there's lots of things to do with Gallifreyan politics and so forth that he hasn't got around to telling you."

Actually, the politics hadn't been a problem, back when she was researching the Doctor's species. Biology, psychology, culture: those were the things she'd struggled with, though the events of this very day had, unexpectedly, answered a vital question regarding Time Lord anatomy. There'd be time enough to consider the implications of that information at a later date, however.

Ace kept up her defensive tone and said, "He tells me things. Lots of things."

"Of course he does." Mortimus nodded and grew quiet, his expression pitying, in a blatant attempt to let her stew in her own insecurities.

Tian leaned closer to her and murmured, "The priest-man is manipulating you."

"He's certainly trying to," she murmured back. "Bit obvious, though, isn't he?"

"Maybe. But if he thinks he cannot play on your fears, he might yet try to play on your confidence."

Ace blinked. Tian was right. Mortimus could be indulging in a double-bluff.

She stood up and then crossed to where Mortimus slumped in the corner. For a few seconds she studied him, before she crouched down, close enough to speak without having to call out across the console room, but far enough away that he couldn't lunge at her.

"So who are the Celestial Intervention Agency?" she asked.

"Time Lord black-ops. Supposed guardians of the web of time, but in truth, a group of rogue operatives who function with no checks or balances."

"If they guard the web of time, it makes sense that you'd be rude about them. You're probably the reason a group like that has to exist."

"That doesn't give them the right to bypass due process."

Ace tut-tutted and shook her head. "And what kind of due process have _you_ been following? How many human beings are dead because you like screwing around with history? Did you offer those people a fair trial?"

Mortimus groused as he sat up straighter. "Fine. If I can't appeal to your preference for rule of law, then how about this? The Celestial Intervention Agency is as likely to confiscate the Doctor's TARDIS as it is mine. He's just as much a thorn in their side as I am. More so, because at least I don't try to disguise what I do!"

Ace considered. "If that's true – big 'if' – then he's risking a lot in contacting them. He must be very worried about the ramifications of your Shanghai project."

"A few local thugs and labourers! That's all!"

"And what about this level five disruption?"

"He's lying! He's making things up to justify his choice. He wants to hand me off to the authorities because he's irked that I got the better of him a few days ago."

"Or he wants to hand you off to the authorities because he knows you'll do this, over and over again, if he doesn't."

"I haven't caused any harm! Nothing monumental, anyway. Good grief, girl, can't you see the bigger picture?"

"Oh, please. The big picture, for you, was getting inside this TARDIS and nicking components off the console. Nothing else."

"That doesn't mean Cai didn't have good reason to want to change things."

"No doubt. But you know as well as I do that even minor changes can cause havoc further down the timeline. There's a reason it's called the grandfather paradox."

"Simplistic claptrap," Mortimus scoffed.

"The idea may be uncomplicated, but it is definitely not claptrap." She risked a glance at him but he wasn't even trying to catch her eye. "If the Doctor thinks this situation means he should call in the professionals, even scary, lawless ones like you describe, then I have complete faith in his judgement."

"They might send him back to Gallifrey!"

"And they might not." Actually, Ace thought it pretty unlikely given the number of jobs the Doctor had done for the CIA down through his regenerations. And he was still Lord President. Technically. _In absentia_ , or whatever the phrase was. "But it's the Doctor's choice, and I'll support it."

"They won't let you go with him, you know. They'll just send you back to your original time and place."

For a moment, the flicker of fear touched her thoughts. To return to Perivale? To try to make a life for herself there, after everything she'd seen? It would feel suffocating. A slow death.

"They might even wipe your memory," Mortimus added slyly. "Take away everything you know about the Doctor. They've done it before, you know."

She swallowed hard and put her shoulders back. "That would be awful," she said. Understatement of the century. "But the alternative's worse."

"What alternative?" he scoffed. "Romping about the galaxies with your best pal?"

She shook her head slowly. "Feeling responsible for breaking his moral compass."

Mortimus hesitated, and Ace had the impression he was genuinely thrown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if the Doctor thought he should call in the CIA, but he didn't because of wanting to protect me, I'd feel responsible."

"You should be proud!"

"I should be horrified, more like."

"Yes, but if you really think he cares for you–"

"I know he does. But if caring for me means his judgement is compromised, then I've caused him harm. I've made him less than himself, just by being in his life."

A memory flickered through her mind: a burning forest on Colonis, just after the Doctor had admitted that he'd believed that was where she'd die.

_"Don't you realise what this means? I was prepared to disregard the laws of time for you!"_

Had she already compromised his judgement? Had she already caused the harm she posited? Or was she being unbelievably arrogant, overestimating her influence on the moral processes of a man who had lived more than nine centuries longer than she had?

Mortimus seemed to consider her comment. Then he said, "You are actually as sanctimonious and self-satisfied as he is, aren't you?"

She smiled. He was back to insults, which meant he had nothing else in his arsenal. Ace stood up from her crouch. "Nice talking, Mortimus. You should try connecting with people more often. I think it'd do you some good."

She walked back over to the sofa, but Mortimus stopped her halfway there.

"Ace."

"Mmm?"

"You said 'CIA'."

"Er, that _is_ what we were talking about."

"Yes, but you used the initials. I didn't."

"So?"

"So you _had_ heard of them."

She smirked. "Oh yeah. Now you come to mention it."

Mortimus glared at her, and Ace let him. She'd won this round, fair and square.

"You and him deserve each other," he said.

It didn't sound like he meant it as a compliment.

~~~

When the Doctor returned, Ace considered her options. Go and get changed, sort out her injuries, leave this in his capable hands? Find Li and Tian some quarters? Give in to the urge to close her eyes and not bother opening them again for a good solid twelve hours?

In the end, she stayed where she was. The Doctor was bustling about in full-on 'let's get this done' mode. Cai came to sit at the end of the sofa looking haunted but resigned, uninterested in responding to Mortimus's nakedly self-motivated enquiries. Whatever was going to happen, it was happening now. Since Li and Tian and Wenling were a part of it, it seemed only right to stay close by.

Mortimus made a last-ditch attempt to dissuade the Doctor from his course, conjuring all kinds of doomsday scenarios that would be as unbearable for the Doctor as for Mortimus himself. The Doctor ignored him, busy with the communications panel. He activated a channel Ace had seen him use only a handful of times before, usually after something big like the destruction of Skaro. It was the TARDIS's emergency line to Gallifrey.

When that was done, he came over to where she leaned, space now being limited on their sofa-and-armchair set-up. "We should really get you to medical," he said.

"Soon enough." She gave his face and posture a quick once-over; he was paler than normal. "You need checking too."

"I'm all right."

"People who aren't all right always say that."

"Don't be contrary."

She wrinkled her nose at him. He wrinkled back.

"Are we going to be waiting long?" Ace asked.

"I doubt it."

As if on cue, Mortimus said, "You're joking me. Indran Tanneressering made Coordinator? Someone just shoot me now."

When Ace looked at him, Mortimus's attention was wholly fixed on the hinged monitor relaying the feed from the external cameras. She went to look. Three people in robes with very high curved collars had appeared, and now waited before the TARDIS. The one in the middle was female, tall and willowy with dark skin and a shaven head. The other two were male, and both were peering into the displays that spilled from devices they wore like bracers on their forearms.

The Doctor sighed and muttered, "Knock knock." Then he went to open the door.

The female introduced herself curtly as Coordinator Indran. She didn't introduce her colleagues. The Doctor, uncharacteristically, did not launch into explanations, nor did he make any attempt to manage the situation. He nodded a greeting, offered the use of the TARDIS scanners and databanks, and then stood back.

For a few minutes there was a quiet tension in the console room, broken only by murmured comments between the agency representatives. The tension grew and grew. Finally, when everyone was well and truly stressed beyond belief, Wenling broke the silence. Unhappy with the atmosphere, she started wailing her disapproval. Ace silently applauded the honesty of infants.

Indran, alerted by the sound, walked over to where the group was seated. She peered at Li and Wenling, then activated her forearm's device. She didn't tell Li to shut the baby up, which was as well because Ace had already decided that she would not stand for that.

Indran turned her back on the group and went to consult with her colleagues. One of them went to stand over Mortimus. Mortimus immediately began talking, trying to blame the Doctor for the current situation, claiming that he'd landed in nineteenth century China quite randomly, only to find that the Doctor had manipulated the young woman named Cai into helping him with some terrible plan to rewrite history. He got about four sentences out before the agent took a small electronic device from a pocket of his robe and slapped it against Mortimus's forehead. Mortimus froze in place, mouth still half-open and trying to form words.

At the end of the sofa, Cai leaned over her knees and put her head in her hands. Ace felt a twinge of sympathy. In a very short space of time, Cai's world had fallen apart.

Li and Tian, between them, managed to turn Wenling's vocal distress into a pre-doze huffing.

"Coordinator Indran," the Doctor said quietly.

"Yes, yes, we're almost done," Indran replied, waving at him. "You were right. The war that recently took place here constitutes a fixed point. There are three more due in this location within the next couple of centuries."

"And more beyond," the Doctor said.

"Indeed, but I don't think we need to discuss the events of the twenty-second century while we have this current audience, would you agree?"

The twenty-second century? As in the First Dalek War? What did that have to do with China and its nineteenth century issues? Ace glanced at the Doctor, and he shot her a placating look.

Of course, that was the thing about the web of time. One loose thread and the whole thing unravelled. Maybe communist China only existed _because_ of the events Cai was so desperate to change. And in turn, whatever communist China eventually became, maybe _that_ needed the PRC to have existed, along with all the things it got right and wrong.

It worked that way for people, after all. Ace was who she was because of her traumas and her fuck-ups. If she'd been somehow reinvented thanks to timeline interference, perhaps protected from Fenric's manipulations, then the things she'd done, good and bad, would never have happened.

It seemed obvious when she thought about it. If it was true for people then it should be true for entire nations too. Nations were just people in macro.

"The temporal disruption," the Doctor said.

"Yes," Indran agreed. "A big one."

"It's clearly one of yours. Why is it so powerful?"

"Too many important people, all in one place. Most restrict themselves to the timestream of one planet and era. But you? You just can't sit still, can you, Doctor? It's always messy when it's you."

"Not just me, this time."

"No." Indran looked over at Ace. "You've been passing on bad habits."

"I was not the one who instigated the loop," he said.

"No. That would be us. Or will be." Indran looked around at all the people gathered in the console room, most of them – Ace included – looking at her in silent confusion. "You must have questions," she said. "We'll answer what we can, then you must leave us to our work."

There was a pause. Ace wondered why no one was jumping in, so she said, "What's the damage, then?"

Indran arched a brow. "In what context, Ms McShane?"

Ohh, and it wasn't _at all_ creepy that the all-powerful black-ops people knew her name, right?

Ace said, "The human context. Who lived, who died. I want to know if I did any harm."

"You?" Indran shook her head. "You have had eleven opportunities to use lethal force since arriving in this time and place, and you have chosen non-lethal options at every juncture."

"What about the man in the gun-store?"

Indran swiped at her interface. "He lives. He panicked and fell over when he fired into a box of live ammunition. Managed to knock himself out. But he lives."

Ace wondered why that was such a relief. The bloke had almost put a bullet in her arm, after all. "So I didn't make things worse?"

"Most of your choices mitigated the damage, in fact."

"But the note? Li's note."

"Yes, that's why I say 'most'. But we'll come to that." Indran glanced at her device. "As for the actions of Mortimus and Ms Cai, thirty-one people are now dead who should yet live."

Ace nodded. "A man named Zhu Zhixin?"

Indran checked. "He lives. He should not. He is one of eight people who have failed to die as the timeline required."

"He should already be dead?" Ace was confused. "But he got shot in the leg, about six hours ago."

Indran studied something in her display. "He should have been executed for murder after beating a man to death at a place called Wusong Fort. September 1843."

Li gave a sharp intake of breath and covered her mouth with a hand.

"Why did he avoid this fate?" Ace asked.

"Ms Cai was recruiting for her project. She arranged for the charges to be dropped."

Ace looked at Cai. Cai kept her head down.

The Doctor said, "What about Mortimus?"

"His habitual interference is no longer something the agency can tolerate," Indran said. "He will be returned to Gallifrey."

The Doctor stood up straighter and looked Indran in the eye. "You will not oubliette him."

'Oubliette him'? Ace frowned at the unfamiliar term.

"We will not?" Indran said, making it quite clear that she did not take kindly to being told what she could and could not do, even from President Elects.

"You will not. The Oubliette of Eternity is not only an unconscionable device, it is a technology we do not understand. I know Rigan was fond of it, but using it is reckless." The Doctor put his shoulders back as he spoke, quietly but firmly. He was hard to challenge when he was like this; the power behind that crumpled exterior was undeniable. "But if that argument fails to sway you, consider the damage to the web of time. Mortimus has made himself a part of thousands of disparate threads. Oublietting the likes of him, writing him out of existence and memory? What would that do, Coordinator?"

"Declutter a huge amount of temporal chaos?" Indran suggested.

"At what _cost_? When it comes right down to it, people are made of their memories. How many individuals will be damaged? How many events will collapse? Whitewash a mural and you end up with a nice clean, tidy wall, but you've lost something uplifting and unique. Pull a thread from a scarf and eventually you're left with lengths of wool – orderly and manageable, perhaps, but you can't keep yourself warm with them. Tidy is not always better! Sometimes it is simply reductive. Coordinator, please. The harm must be weighed against the good, surely."

Indran considered, then she nodded. "You make your case well, Doctor."

The two of them looked at each other for a lingering moment, then the Doctor exhaled briskly, as though relieved. "Good. To Ms Cai, then. You will need access to the recent conversation she and I shared – with her permission?" He looked around at Cai, who'd raised her head when her name was spoken.

Cai said, "Oh. Um. Sure?"

Indran said, "I fail to see the relevance."

"That's because you haven't reviewed the information." He held up a hand. "Contact?"

Indran sighed, then stepped closer. She raised her hand to his. "Contact," she agreed, and their fingers touched.

Three seconds went by. Ace counted them. Then Indran stepped away and the Doctor turned to smile reassuringly at Cai.

Indran went over to her colleagues. She frowned, operated her bracer-device, waited for them to do the same, then all three of them nodded in apparent consensus.

She turned to Cai. "Young woman, your actions have caused harm."

"I know," Cai said. She looked like she did, too. That was what quiet, honest conversations with the Doctor did to you.

"Your intentions were logical, however."

"Why should it matter?" Cai said dully. "I'm just one person."

"Most things come down to the choices of just one person," Indran said, and though her expression was cool and her tone was flat, Ace saw a glimmer of compassion in the words. "Your experiences provide context. You were manipulated by Mortimus. You are found not guilty of wilful damage to the web of time. You are found guilty of attempted timeline interference. You will be returned to your proper time and place. All memories of higher or alien technologies will be removed. All memories of Mortimus will be removed, subject to an appeal." Indran gazed at Cai. "Do you wish to object?" She waited expectantly.

Cai looked over at the immobilised Mortimus. Ace wondered what was going through her head. Did Cai want to remember him, and treasure that time of adventure and excitement? Or would she prefer to forget him, and never have to dwell on what she no longer had? In Cai's situation, Ace was pretty sure she'd take the pain of loss over the numbness of forgetting.

Cai told Indran, "I don't object."

Indran nodded. "Very well. You will be returned to the 18th of August, 2077. Please inform one of my colleagues of your preferred destination."

Cai glanced at the Doctor, then back at Indran. She didn't look freaked out. Perhaps the Doctor had prepared her for this.

"I can't go back to China," she said. "They'll lock me up."

Would they, now? Ace wondered what _that_ was about.

Indran nodded. "You will be offered a fresh identity, just as the Doctor advised."

"I'm an engineer," Cai said. "I need to be somewhere I can...I want to make things better. Only this time without, you know. Cheating."

Indran gave a small eye roll, as if she couldn't believe that mere mortals could be so obtuse. "That _is_ your proper time and place." She checked her device. "Ah! The timestreams are aligned. It will be done."

"I didn't even say where, yet."

The Doctor said, "Coordinator Indran now has access to your complete timeline. She already knows where you've decided to go, just as she knows what you'll achieve when you get there. Best not to let it make your head spin, and get on with it."

Cai looked at him, looked at Ace, then nodded. Indran waved at a colleague, and the agent stepped closer. He indicated that Cai should go with him. Cai stood up, apparently seeing no further reason to speak. She followed the agent out of the TARDIS.

"Anything else you wish to ask?" Indran said to her gathered audience.

"What about Li Renxiang?" Ace asked. "If Zhu Zhixin survives his leg wound, then he'll go after her again. Now he knows she's alive, I don't think he'll stop. It isn't fair that she has to live in fear."

Indran nodded. "The timestreams are aligned," she said. It seemed to be her catchphrase. "Time has repaired itself."

Coordinator Indran indicated to her remaining colleague, who stepped forward and offered a hand to Li. "Please," the agent said. "This will be painless."

Ace stepped in between the two of them. "What's going on?" she demanded nervously.

The Doctor's hand settled on her shoulder. "It's all right," he said. "It's time to say goodbye."

She turned to look at him. "Already?"

"It always comes too soon."

Li said, "What is happening, Ace?"

"Good question." Ace turned to the agent. "Where are you taking her?"

The agent glanced at Indran, who offered an imperious nod of permission. After checking his device, he announced, "Li Renxiang, Tian Kuo and Li Wenling are to be resituated. Huaiyin, 1783."

Li stepped closer to Tian and Wenling. "I don't understand."

The Doctor squeezed Ace's shoulder, but she couldn't draw comfort. Li and Tian and the baby were going back sixty years in time! It seemed ridiculous. Random. Cruel and unusual.

"Doctor," she said, hating the tremor in her voice.

"It's the only way," he murmured. "And it's already been done."

"You're not making sense!"

"This is the only way to avoid a catastrophic failure of the timeline." He leaned close enough to touch his brow to the back of her head. "It had to happen this way."

And through her mind, a flurry of thoughts arrived:

_a note, written in faded ink;_   
_a rescue from violence;_   
_a safe haven thanks to a stern-faced older lady;_   
_Mortimus inside the TARDIS, defeated;_   
_the Doctor, freed from captivity, able to contact the CIA;_   
**_intervention_ **   
_Li and Tian and little Wenling, a new life, a new home;_   
_a note, written in jet-black ink, waiting for the day it will be needed;_   
_a child listening earnestly as the responsibility is passed;_   
_a folded piece of paper slipped under a door;_   
_a note, written in faded ink;_

Ace blinked. The Doctor's breath hitched, then he drew away from her. He didn't remove his hand from her shoulder.

"It loops," she said.

"Yes. It was done. It is being done. It will be done."

"My head is already splitting. Leave off."

"I'm sorry," he said, but he'd sensed her tension ebbing and his hand at her shoulder patted gently then let her go. "From the Agency's point of view, I had to trigger their involvement. To do so, I had to be freed from captivity. That depended on you. So you had to live." He hesitated. "And from my point of view, you had to live, therefore, fine, I did my part. Called the CIA."

Li was frowning at them, trying to make sense of it all but clearly struggling. "Ace, what does this mean?"

"It means," Ace said, trying to find the right words, "that you are never going to have to worry about Zhu coming after you. You'll always be safe from him, you and the little titch. But you can't go back to Madam Deng's house. You have to make a new life."

Tian moved closer, Wenling now dozing in his arms. "1783 is the Western way of measuring years," he said. "It is the past."

Ace nodded. "Yes. You will go back in time."

"How is this possible?"

"The same way you entered a blue box and found yourself in here. Science, my friend. The things that seem impossible – they're usually just new."

Tian glanced at Li. "I do not know this city, Huaiyin."

"I'm guessing that's the point," Ace said. "You can't go anywhere you can affect your own history."

"Why must we go back at all?"

Ace let her head sink, and she looked at the floor. Li's hand reached to hold hers.

The Doctor took over. "Because if you don't, Li Renxiang will not receive a message encouraging her to help Ace. Ace will be..." He stopped. Ace heard him swallow. "Ace will be killed in Shanghai. I will not be rescued."

Li said, "And I will not have my daughter back."

Ace sighed. "No."

The Doctor gestured around. "None of this will happen."

"But it has happened," Tian said. "It's happening now. We are here, all of us. We know how things unfolded!"

"That's why they call it a temporal disruption," the Doctor said. "If we don't stabilise the intervention, the timestream will collapse."

Ace looked at Indran. "I get why Li Renxiang and her daughter have to go. But Tian Kuo...?"

"Mr Tian accompanies Miss Li because the timestreams will not align otherwise."

Tian murmured, "I would not be anywhere else."

Li let go of Ace's hand and turned to Tian. Their eyes met. Suddenly Ace felt as though she was intruding.

The agent spoke up again. "Please," he said to Li. "The longer you remain, the more critical the potential disruption."

Li brushed a tear from her cheek and turned to Ace. "If it must be, then it must be." She inhaled deeply, finding strength; she was a veteran of heartache at almost seventeen years old. "Goodbye, Ace. I have valued our friendship."

"Me too," Ace said. "I wish we'd had more time."

"I will teach Wenling of you. The woman who helped me save her."

Li offered her arms. Ace embraced her friend for the few moments they had left, then pulled back. She smiled at Tian, who gave a half-bow. "Farewell, Ace," he murmured. "Most gracious teacher."

And then the agent was guiding the trio away. They left the TARDIS.

"The note!" Ace said, with a surge of concern. "Li needs to know where and when to send–"

"She will be advised of what is needed," Indran said. A glance at her holographic display, and that cool expression flickered with a brief show of satisfaction. "There. The disruption has been averted."

Ace nodded dully. She felt a pressure in her throat: an aching need to weep. She wasn't going to lose it in front of strangers, though. She turned away, defined some room for herself. A few deep breaths made things easier.

"You will see to the island's structures?" the Doctor asked Indran.

"Of course." Indran's half-smile was wry. "That's the easy part. Now if you will excuse me, the Chancellery Guard are expecting a package." She moved over to Mortimus and did something with her forearm's device that made the immobilised Time Lord float within some kind of retaining field.

"You're offering him a fair trial?" the Doctor put in, sounding dubious.

"The charge is obvious enough. Class three," Indran said. "A Time Lord materially disrupting the timeline of a planet."

"Yes," he said solemnly. "That sounds very bad."

Indran rolled her eyes. "As you say, Lord President. I'll bid you and Ms McShane farewell."

"Thank you for your assistance, Coordinator."

Indran turned around and strode out of the TARDIS, Mortimus bobbing along in front of her.

Ace shuddered. The Doctor went to close the doors. She looked around at the console room, which suddenly seemed silent and empty. Next to the sofa was a wicker basket stuffed with pillows. Leaning against the side of the armchair was a non-functional rifle. Over in the corner was a snipped cable-tie. Ace's own rucksack had been dumped over by the internal doorway.

How did things change so quickly?

The Doctor leaned over the navigation controls and then activated the engines. The time rotor lifted and sank.

"Where are we going?" Ace asked.

"Nowhere and everywhere," he said. "We'll pause in the vortex while we see to your injuries. Then I believe you need to take some things to a Madam Deng?"

"Right. Yes."

He came to join her and used a coaxing arm to guide her away from the sofa.

"She was my friend," Ace whispered.

"I know."

They left the console room together.

~~~


	10. Chapter 10

_Shanghai, China_   
_17th April 1844_   
_7:15 am_

Ace stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around the room. The bed was neatly made: probably neater than she'd left it. Her cargo trousers and Union Flag T-shirt were folded on the bed, along with the unfussy cotton bra that she hadn't been able to wear beneath her Victorian corsetry. The clothes had clearly been left there in case she came to collect them.

On the table below the window sat Madam Deng's copy of the Victorian etiquette book. Alongside it, a pile of Ace's notes: not about etiquette, but of maps and names and criminal connections, and all the things she'd been trying to absorb as she worked through the problem of the missing TARDIS and the guns that were flooding Shanghai's underworld. Those notes were, now she looked at them, evidence of a woman who had tried, desperately, to feel as though she was doing something productive.

In the corner, a pitcher of water sat beside the basin on its counter. The little shaped bamboo stick that Li had provided as a means to clean her teeth was resting in a ceramic cup. On the shelves underneath were the clothes Ace had borrowed for day-to-day use.

It felt odd to be back. For five days, this room had been her home, but she could barely remember what the bed felt like to sleep on. After the briefest interlude of rest and healing in the TARDIS, her time in Madam Deng's house had become a distant memory.

Ace stirred herself and took the Victorian frock and its various accoutrements over to the bed. The dress was heavy. No wonder the events of two days earlier had been so tiring; she'd been carrying the equivalent of a hefty pack around with her. Much as she'd hated the formal wear, she took care in laying the items out on the bed. Madam Deng's assistance had been invaluable, and her property was worthy of respect. That was why Ace had bothered to launder the clothing before she returned it. Fortunately, the TARDIS made it easy to do stuff like that.

Ace set the pearls down on the small bedside table. Then she placed a folder of papers on the table beneath the window. She checked everything: dress, wrap, gloves, underclothes. The only items missing were the bonnet, which she'd left in the carriage, and the hair-pins which she'd discarded in Mortimus's house: a house that no longer existed, because Changxing had gone back to being an uninhabited island in the Yangtze estuary.

All was as it had once been, or as near as the Celestial Intervention Agency could make it. It was time to move on.

She went to collect the pile of her original clothing. It was the simplest of tasks, but she felt as though she were moving through treacle. This sluggishness wasn't down to her physical state; she was in good shape thanks to the TARDIS medical bay and a long, restful sleep. Still, it seemed there was a kind of inertia dragging her down. Mental, perhaps, or emotional. In truth, she had no clear sense of what she was currently feeling.

"Are you all right?" the Doctor asked.

She turned to see him leaning in the TARDIS doorway, watching her. "I'm not sure," she said honestly.

"You've been through a lot, these last few days."

"So have you," she countered.

"Perhaps. But I was asleep for most of it."

She exhaled sharply: a dry laugh. "One way to describe a self-induced coma."

The Doctor shook his head, dismissing his experiences with an exasperating lack of concern. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Ace frowned at the question. It unnerved her, perhaps because the Doctor had deviated from their standard post-traumatic routine of pretending all was well. It shouldn't feel so weird that her closest friend was offering a heart-to-heart, not at a moment like this. But it did.

The question had been asked, however, so she answered as truthfully as she could. "Yes. I think so. But I don't really know how."

He nodded. The Doctor seemed very focused on her, which in itself was strange because his behaviour was normally that of someone juggling a hundred different things at once. "I th–"

There came a knock at the door to the bedroom. Ace started and turned around. She frowned, then turned back to the Doctor, then shrugged and went to answer the door.

Madam Deng stood in the doorway, and seemed relieved to see her. "Miss Ace. I was informed there was an odd noise up here." She glanced at the TARDIS in the corner. "Ah. It moves on its own, then."

"Er, yes." Ace freed an arm from her bundle of clothing and pointed to the bed. "I brought your stuff back."

"Thank you."

"And, um – sorry I missed class yesterday. I kind of have to resign, but hopefully this will help." She indicated the folder on the table. "I managed to find a translation of the book." Actually, she'd found a digital copy of the original on a twenty-first century web page, and the TARDIS library systems had helpfully printed a copy translated into Wu-Chinese. "I didn't want to leave the job unfinished."

Madam Deng glanced over the folder, then she smiled. "You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate the gesture."

Ace nodded. She swallowed hard. "Look, I'm afraid I have to tell you – it's about Li Renxiang, and Tian Kuo. You won't be seeing them again." Hurriedly, she added, "It isn't bad news or anything. Li got her little girl back, and we got away from the bad guys, only–"

"Ace," Madam Deng said gently. It was the first time Deng had spoken her name without prefixing it with a title. "It's all right. I know."

"You...do?"

Behind Ace, the Doctor said, "Ah." He stepped forward, leaned close and peered into Madam Deng's face. Then he smiled. "Hello. I'm the Doctor. We met when you were a little shorter, I think."

"I'm sure we did," Madam Deng said. "I don't remember."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "Wenling," Ace breathed.

"Yes."

So the brothel owner who had offered Li Renxiang a safe place to live, to work, to get back on her feet was actually Li's own daughter? What did that mean? Without Wenling's help, would Li even have survived her escape from Wusong? It seemed unlikely. Shanghai was not a city that was kind to its dispossessed.

The implications made Ace's head whirl, but she was now sure of one thing: Li had been able to retrieve her daughter _only because of her daughter's help_.

Sometimes, time-travel could be seriously fucked up.

Ace sighed the confusion out. "Sixty years," she said. "I thought it was about how your mother and Mr Tian needed to avoid any overlap with their earlier lives. But it was...it was all about you."

"Yes."

"I should have realised. It's been about you from the start, at least as far as your mother was concerned. She never gave up on you."

"I like to believe I inherited some of her strength," Deng said.

"I don't doubt it." Ace broke into a smile. "Your mother – she was so frightened. She had reason to be. And she didn't let it stop her, not for a single minute." Memories were tumbling through her head, as if she had spent five years alongside Li Renxiang, not five days. "You know, there was this moment in the carriage. We'd just got you out of the Zhang house, and Zhu Zhixin was being all kinds of thuggish, and I got him to pass you over to your mum. She took you in her arms and you reached up and grabbed her nose, like it was the most intriguing thing you'd ever seen." Ace breathed a laugh and shook her head. "And everything else in that carriage faded away. There was just you and her, looking at each other. Renxiang had this light in her eyes. It was..." She tailed off and flushed, realising that she'd been getting far too lyrical. "I wish I'd been able to spend more time with your mother, and with you," she finished, a bit awkwardly.

Madam Deng smiled, and moved the dress out of the way so she could draw Ace to sit down on the bed beside her. "I miss her," Deng said. "Still. Even in my old age, I miss the mother I grew up with."

"It must have been odd, to meet her again when she was just sixteen."

Deng offered her a droll look. "It was indeed."

"Did you want to tell her who you really are?"

"How could I? She would have thought me mad."

Ace nodded. "But the woman you grew up with – did she come to realise that the Madam Deng who'd provided her with a home and some security was actually her little girl?"

"No." Madam Deng looked distant for a while. "No, I lost my mother a year before I met my husband. She was never able to make the connection – though she'd long since written the note, of course, along with instructions for me to arrange its delivery to her younger self."

"So did she and Tian Kuo ever...?" Ace asked.

"My parents enjoyed a very happy marriage that lasted eighteen years, until malaria took my mother." Madam Deng sighed with remembered grief. "It was hard for my father, for a long time. But we still had each other, and when I married Deng, father must have worked out that we were completing the circle."

"He never told you?"

"No. It must have been complicated, knowing what he did of my future. He attended my wedding knowing that I would lose my husband years before I came to Shanghai and established this business. But then again, he knew better than anyone that love is worth the grief that follows."

Ace nodded. "I owe you a lot," she said. "I survived a murder attempt because of you and your mum. I found my way home because of your help. Thank you."

"I don't pretend to understand it all," Deng said, patting Ace's hand gently. "How could I? My mother told me about you and your blue box, and the god-priests who saved us all from the man who stole me away. These things are beyond me." She shook her head. "For much of my life, there was a part of me that wondered whether my mother had suffered delusions – she went through so much when she was barely more than a child. When I came to Shanghai and founded the business, I named it for the stories my mother had told me, thinking it a tribute to her memory, nothing more. It was only when I met the young version of my father that I had proof my mother's stories were real."

"How did you come to know Kuo?"

Deng smiled mischievously. "He tried to pick my pocket, in the market in the old town. Fourteen years old, he was, and running with a street crew. He'd had such a bad start to his life. His father had never been around, his mother had sought solace in poppy. For most of his childhood he'd cared for his baby sister. Then, one day, his mother knocked a lantern over while in her stupor. Burned down the shack where they lived, with her and her daughter inside it. He came home to ashes. With no other choice, he found a living on the streets."

"Wow. That's just heartbreaking."

"Ahh, the story is sad, but you don't have to look far in Shanghai to find others to match it. In any case, I told young Tian Kuo that he could have my purse and let it feed him for a few days, or he could give it back and take a job instead, and have food _every_ day." Madam Deng smirked at Ace. "My father was not an idiot, even at fourteen."

Ace smiled. It was good to know that Li and Tian had found happiness together, and little Wenling had grown up surrounded by a family that loved her.

"What will you do now?" Ace asked.

"What I've always done. Tend my business. Help where I can. See out my time until I'm able to reunite with my beloved." Deng offered a helpless shrug. "The things we all do." The older woman patted Ace's hand one last time and then stood up. "Well, then. I should go. I have a brothel to run, and you and your Doctor must do the things people like you do. I expect we won't see each other again, will we?"

"Unlikely. But I'm glad to have known you."

"Likewise." Madam Deng paused at the bedroom door. "Without you, my mother and I would have been lost to each other. I will always be in your debt."

"Not a chance," Ace said. "Without you, I'd have lost the Doctor. We're totally quits, Deng Wenling."

Deng nodded then left quietly, closing the door behind her.

Ace spent a moment trying to work out whether she was filled with a sense of loss and sadness, or something uplifting and joyful. She decided, after pondering the question, that she was actually filled with both. If she kept this up, she worried she might even start indulging in nuance. What the hell was all this age and experience doing to her?

"Time to go," the Doctor said softly behind her.

Ace stood up, still clutching that bundle of clothes, and went over to him. "Yes."

"London 2012?" he suggested, with a hint of caution.

"God, no," Ace replied. "Let's go somewhere quiet. Somewhere it's just us."

"I know just the place." The Doctor smiled. "In fact, we both do."

~~~

_Keverne_   
_Autumn_

The garden planet of Keverne, site of Ace's inaugural picnic about eighteen months earlier, was predictably lovely in the autumn. The yoodelberries were no longer fruiting, and many of the flowering shrubs that had blazed with colour in summer now offered only seed heads or bare branches. Nevertheless, the gentle rolling hills glowed with reds and golds and maroons and russets, burnishing the landscape like a permanent sunset.

The TARDIS had brought them to a sunlit corner of a grassy meadow. They'd settled down just outside the ship on the picnic blanket. For long, peaceful minutes they shared a flask of lapsang souchong, watching some little squirrel-things sail through the air between the branches of a towering stand of trees nearby.

The last time she'd been on Keverne, Ace had been doing her level best to dismiss a deliciously naughty dream. Being back here made her think about the intervening months. Between Woodstock and Colonis and Shanghai, it felt as though she'd been slowly turning into a different person.

The air was cool and clean in her nostrils. Overhead, the sun was bright but not oppressively so. The peace was just what she needed, as she sipped honey-sweetened tea and let the events in Shanghai drain from her, trauma by trauma.

The Doctor wasn't pushing her to talk. Maybe he regretted making the offer. Whatever his reasons, he sat quietly beside her, eyes half-lidded against the sunshine, a contented smile playing across his lips.

When Ace started speaking, she almost surprised herself.

"I think," she said, "that the next time we take on bad guys, we should do so together."

"Isn't that our usual approach?" the Doctor remarked.

"No, I mean, actually together. Like – me standing here, and you standing right next to me. Because this habit we've got into of splitting up for days on end? I don't like it."

"Hmm." The Doctor watched a squirrel-thing for a moment, then he nodded thoughtfully. "Agreed. I'll have a word with the rest of the universe. No more splitting us up."

"If you could."

"Not that you aren't capable, of course," the Doctor said.

She wanted to laugh that off, so she did.

"I'm serious! You're still a force to be reckoned with," he pressed. "All those times when I'm incapacitated, or simply otherwise engaged. You forge ahead. Solve the puzzle. Right the wrongs."

Ace snorted with derision. "You're only saying that because you didn't actually _see_ me, this last week."

"Yes, well, we established that I was incapacitated." He turned to look at her. "And what would I have seen, had I been able?"

"Floundering," Ace said. "Flailing about. Screwing up. At best, scraping by. But _not_ because I was clever or skilled. Because I got insanely lucky with the help I was given."

In speaking the words, confessing her failures, Ace experienced a quiet, hollow kind of disappointment in herself. This wasn't about the insecurities that had been so much a part of her teenage years, though. She wasn't indulging in navel-gazing. It would have been easier if she was, because then she'd have an excuse. No, this was about the self-awareness she'd started to form. It was about being honest.

She lifted her legs and hugged them to her chest, rested her chin on her knees. Gazing into the autumnal palette of Keverne, she sighed the disappointment out. Mistakes were only ever acceptable if you learned from them. That was what she'd have to do.

The Doctor rather spoiled her grown-up moment of introspection by bursting into chuckles.

"What?" she said, confused and a touch irritated. She'd just laid bare some pretty regrettable shortcomings. Couldn't he at least acknowledge that?

He shook his head, sighed, caught her glare and then laughed again.

"I'm trying to be serious, here!" Ace snapped. "Think about it! How long did it take me to find you? Get you back on your feet? Too bloody long!"

"Ace," he said, smiling, shaking his head.

"Admit it! The whole thing went wrong when we were barely out of the TARDIS because I made a stupid error of judgement. I went marching up to those street-toughs without pausing to think that three against one might be a bad idea. I only survived because of some Gallifreyan jiggery-pokery."

"We all make mistakes," the Doctor said.

"Yeah. So the thing to do would have been to make up for it, right? Take my second chance and use it. Do something intelligent. Only I didn't do that, did I? I'd have been absolutely useless if I hadn't had Li Renxiang and Madam Deng to help me. _I_ didn't find the TARDIS, _they_ did. I didn't go to Wusong Fort because I cleverly figured out where you'd been taken – someone had to point me there!"

The Doctor had quietened down, watching her, a slight frown creasing his brow, but when she paused and he tried to nod in understanding it took only a handful of seconds before he snorted another laugh.

"Stop laughing at me!" She gave him her most baleful look. "I mean it. I was even more of a mess on the island. Cai played me like a fiddle. It was embarrassing. Each time I got free it was only thanks to Renxiang." She sighed. "Even after I sorted Mortimus out, and I thought I was being oh-so-clever using the scanners to find you, all I did was waste two hours in the pouring rain on a sodding wild goose chase!"

He smiled at her fondly, then settled down on his back and folded his hands over his chest. "Ohh, Ace," he said.

"It isn't funny!"

"It _is_ funny."

"Why?"

His head turned, and he looked up at her, and he smiled the gentle smile that always curled her toes, no matter how annoyed she was with him.

"Let's summarise, then," he said. "You're telling me that after we landed in Shanghai, you identified and confronted a threat, you escaped a tricky situation thanks to some unlikely help, and you rallied some locals to get the lie of the land, finding your way, almost by accident, to the heart of the trouble."

"Yes! Not really medal-material, am I?"

He chuckled.

"Seriously, Professor, if you keep laughing at me then we're done here."

The Doctor reached up, and he touched her hunched shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I should think so."

"Except – you do realise you just described my own personal _modus operandi_?"

"I–" Ace frowned. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did. More or less exactly."

"This is different!"

"Nonsense. You've been with me over four years. You know how I operate. And as soon as you manage a bit of breathing space, some much-needed perspective, you'll be forced to admit that I'm right."

"Will I, now?" she said, trying for sarcasm, but failing to quite get there because the truth in his words was annoyingly obvious.

"Yes. And if you're very lucky, I'll refrain from saying 'I told you so'." He patted her arm then dropped his hand. "You know, you did this after Colonis too."

"Did what?"

"Berated yourself for everything you felt you did wrong."

"Oh."

There was another lengthy pause. Ace felt her muscles relaxing a bit.

"Of course," the Doctor eventually said, "I do the same."

"You...what, berate yourself?"

"If I think I've made a mistake, yes."

Ace glanced at him. His eyes were closed. He seemed the very picture of stillness. Serenity.

"I should have waited for you before marching onto that barge," he murmured. "For instance."

Yes, he should have. But Ace wasn't going to make him feel worse by saying it.

"If I'd stayed with you," he went on, "those three thugs might have thought better of taking you on. Bullies never like it when the odds are evened up a bit."

"Hmm." Ace let go of her knees and leaned back on her arms.

"And I was a blithering idiot with Mortimus. I've known him since the Academy. I've always understood his selfishness, his sadistic streak. And yet I presented him with the opportunity to put me out of commission because I was so convinced of my ability to talk him down."

A pause. When he put it like that, Ace had to admit that there was a weird kind of parallel here.

"Still," Ace said, "it isn't like you don't usually pull it off. You know. The talking thing."

The Doctor sighed. "I suppose."

"Speaking of – what did you say to Cai? Seemed like she changed her tune pretty fast."

He opened an eye – just the one – and looked up at her. "Cai changed her tune the moment she realised she'd lost control. You did that. Not me."

"I did?"

"Mmm. She needs control. Craves it. Control was taken away from her at two important times in her life. Both with catastrophic results."

"What happened?" Ace asked.

"The first time, as a child, she witnessed the self-immolation of her mother during a protest march. The second time, as a young woman, she found herself arrested and imprisoned, simply for being the daughter of one of the most famous martyrs of Hong Kong. That was when Mortimus provided a way out."

Ace thought about this. "It was all down to a need for control? I mean, she wanted to change history."

"As soon as she was introduced to the concept of time-travel, she saw a way to exert her control over things she'd always been powerless to address. How could she resist?"

"She was a hell of a strategist," Ace mused. "Always had a back-up plan. Then a back-up to her back-up plan."

"Hmm. Right up until the moment she did not." He smiled to himself, eyes closed again. "I hear she tried to turn your stun-gun on you."

"Yeah."

"And there we have it. Her confidence came from her sense of control. Once it was removed, the doubts overwhelmed her."

"Okay, but even if I softened her up a bit, you must have said something to her," Ace pressed. "She was still all for changing history when I brought her to you. And you were gone for a long time."

"I'd done some research, while you and Miss Li went to collect your rucksack. The TARDIS couldn't provide CIA levels of timestream data, but it told me enough. I was able to inform Cai of some of the things she and Mortimus had already changed. One of them seemed to affect her quite profoundly."

"What was it?"

"A small thing, perhaps. A young man who died. Yu Peng. Not the kind of man you'd look at twice. He worked as a scribe in the tax office. A very ordinary civil servant."

"What happened to him?"

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Took a stray shot to the gut from a firearm that shouldn't have existed. Wasn't meant for him. Killed him anyway."

"Poor Mr Yu. But why did it matter to Cai?"

The Doctor smiled tightly. "It mattered, because Yu Peng's premature death meant he never married. Never had children. An entire family line, lost forever. Including his great-granddaughter. Liao Changying."

"And what would she have done?"

"Prior to Mortimus's interference, she wrote a book when she was just nineteen years old. A children's book, about magic and courage and adventure and loyalty. It was called _The Perpetual Butterfly_."

"I don't know it."

"And now, alas, no one ever will."

Ace thought about that. "I thought Indran and her gang fixed the timestreams."

"They did, as far as was possible. Some things changed, though. That was one of them."

"And this made Cai give up on her plan to rewrite Chinese history?"

"It convinced her that when you start changing things around, you can do horrendous damage without even realising it."

Ace finished her cup of tea, now well cooled, then lay down beside the Doctor on the blanket. Their upper arms touched companionably.

"Did Cai say anything to you about me?" she asked, after several minutes battling with herself about whether to ask the question.

"Lots," the Doctor said.

"Such as?"

"Such as – you'd already tried to tell her that the big picture was only as good as all the little pictures put together. She said she hadn't really listened."

"Huh."

His body moved as he turned to look at her. Ace didn't look back. The proximity they shared was as unnerving as it was delicious.

"Why? What did you think she said about you?" he asked.

"Dunno. Just, you know. Curious."

"Ah."

She stared at the clouds that dusted Keverne's blue sky. After a moment, the Doctor turned his head away and settled back. Ace wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or bereft.

"You're off the hook, by the way," she said.

"Off what hook?"

"The whole transaction thing. Owing favours, all that crap."

"Oh, that."

She breathed deeply and managed to laugh at myself. "I'm an idiot. Friendship isn't about _quid pro quo_. Friendship happens when you can trust you don't need it."

The Doctor considered that, then he nodded. "Yes, I think you're right." Between their bodies, his hand found hers. "Of course, you've had a terrible role model when it comes to getting carried away by game theory."

She'd have snatched her hand away, had he not squeezed it firmly. How much did he know? How much had he worked out?

What else had Cai said to him?

"Was it so obvious?" she asked.

"Not for quite some time," he said quietly. "But then, you had that terrible role model. Probably taught you a thing or two about covering your tracks."

Ace couldn't figure out how much – or how little – he was saying. Fine, so he'd noticed her attempts to manipulate him. But had he realised _why_ she was doing it? She could ask him, she supposed. He'd either say yes, he knew, or no he didn't. Alas, Ace wasn't sure either of those conversations would end in anything but tears.

"No more game theory," she said. "Not between us."

"Agreed."

She nodded. Turned her head to look at him. "Of course, you could be playing me right now. Pretending to stop. To get the upper hand."

The Doctor turned his head, and – damn it – she'd been right about that proximity. Their faces were uncomfortably close together. They lay there on the picnic blanket, looking into each other's eyes, sensing each other's breath.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he asked in barely a murmur.

The moment held. Then:

"Nah," she said. "If you were really playing me, you'd be more subtle about it." She turned away, sat up, pulled her hand from his. "I'm going to get some more tea. Won't be long!"

Ace stood up and went over to the TARDIS doors. When she glanced back at the Doctor, she noticed that he'd slung his arm over his eyes as though the sun had become too bright. A treacherous voice inside her head announced that she'd fucked things up yet again, but what could she do? There was every chance she'd misread the situation. Her thoughts were still all over the place after Shanghai.

She just needed some time. Give things a chance to level out a bit. That was all.

Ace went to make some more tea.

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began this story several years ago. I built the character of Cai based on the Hong Kong pro-democracy demonstrations known as the 'Umbrella Movement' in 2014. I had no idea that, by the time I prepared to publish this piece, the issue of pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong would once again be in the news. I intend no pointed political commentary on current events with this story.
> 
> That said, this is a Doctor Who story. Tyranny and oppression are there to be defeated, for such things are by their nature cruel and cowardly.
> 
> I am not Chinese, nor have I ever travelled to that country. While I have gone to some lengths to render the setting for this story as accurate as possible in historical, political and geographical terms, I will doubtless have made errors. For this, I apologise.
> 
> I should note specifically that I have introduced the British Quarter to Shanghai a few months early, and I have moved the ancient fort at Wusong just a tad closer to the Huangpu River than it currently stands. I also put trees on Changxing Island when, in its natural form, it is a collection of sandbars. Let us consider the world of Doctor Who a parallel universe to our own, and leave it at that.


End file.
